


Attachment is the root of suffering

by olympia_m



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossdressing, Crossover, Dubious Consent, F/M, Feilong being an asshole, M/M, Muraki being a psycho, Out of Character, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Indulgent, graphic description of body parts, rape/non-con between Feilong and OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 30,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: What if Asami had wanted to give Feilong a taste of his own medicine? (or, a story where Asami's intentions are neither good nor they succeed, Feilong is being so driven by his needs he can't see past his own nose, Oriya hates his life, and Muraki just wants blood)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing fanfiction again, Shelly asked me if I would post my old stories. I don't like most of them, but some I have decided to share... Here's one of them, one of my most self-indulgent fics. Originally posted at LJ, some 9-10 years ago...  
> (also, for some reason, fusing Yami no Matsuei with the Finder series had - and has - been a thing... what can I say?)
> 
> Apologies for the very short chapters!

Feilong glared at Asami. “If you think you will get away with this…”

Asami smirked and gestured to one of his bodyguards, the tall, blond one. Immediately, he stuck a piece of tape across Feilong’s mouth, and, for a second Feilong tried to open his mouth, shocked. He couldn’t. Asami kept smirking. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy. Takaba too would say that this is petty and pointless, but…” He motioned the bodyguards away, and leaned close to Feilong, so close that Feilong could smell his perfume, and his mint-scented breath burned across his cheeks. Feilong swallowed and wouldn’t have looked away even if Asami hadn’t been holding his jaw. “You’ve been acting like a child, and so you deserve to be punished. Not like a child, but like the bastard that you are.” Asami let him go. “It’s time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

When the needle pierced his skin and the darkness started swallowing him, Feilong felt almost grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

The young man stood out for many reasons, and it was not just because he was placed in the middle of the room. “This puppy bites,” Asami laughed as he pulled on the leash around the man’s neck. “It may need training, but wouldn’t you say it’s worth it?” He lifted the man’s head up, smirking. “Delicate features, almost as pretty as a woman,” he said, trailing his hand across the man’s cheeks. “But a strong body.” His hand slid down, pulling aside the robe that covered him. “Definitely that of a man.” There were more leather harnesses and bonds across the man’s body, but they only accentuated his muscles and his strength. “Yes, I say he’s definitely worth it.” Asami moved away, taking the robe with him. Naked but for his bonds: the young man was exquisite. 

Mr Strawberry Finch next to him licked his lips. “I’d like to have a taste before buying,” he said standing up. 

“Be my guest.”

The young man turned his head sharply and glared at Asami. Asami hit him, and made him face the audience. What a shame; the young man’s profile was exquisite as well, proud and elegant at the same time. 

When Mr Strawberry Finch ran his hand along the young man’s face, the young man flinched. Disgust, or maybe cold, or fear, made his nipples stand out. When Mr Strawberry Finch pinched them, the young man shuddered, and turned his head away, trying to shake his hair free, perhaps in an attempt to cover his face. Asami hit him again. 

“I don’t need a taste before buying,” Oriya said as he stood up. 

Asami smirked. 

Mr Strawberry Finch glared at him, and took a step forward; a step away from the young man. “Weren’t you happy with your Kyoto beauties? Last time we met, they were enough for you.”

“This beauty does not strike me as one of Edo’s own. No, I’d say… Chinese?”

Asami inclined his head slightly, smiling. 

The young man stared at him, hostile and vicious. This puppy would do more than bite, if anyone was stupid enough to let it loose. Oriya smiled. 

Mr Strawberry Finch huffed. “You are disgusting, Mr Fox. But this is not your city. This is mine. Therefore…” He tried to push him.

Asami got between them. “Gentlemen. If you want to touch, you may do so. If you want to bid, you’re more than welcome to. But, please…”

Oriya snorted and took a step back. “Fine. Let’s bid. Asami-san, what’s the starting price for this?” 

Asami glanced at the young man for a second, looking vicious and victorious at the same time. Oriya wondered what had happened between them. “A beauty like this? How can I put a price on it? No, I’d leave that to the connoisseurs, such as yourselves. Mr Strawberry Finch?”

Mr Strawberry Finch looked at him. “One.”

Oriya smiled. “One fifty.”

Asami sat down. He could wait. Oriya envied him for a second.


	3. Chapter 3

Feilong glared at his ‘owner’. The moment he got a chance, his ‘owner’ was dead. And then it would be Asami’s turn. And then… then he’d deal with the idiots that let Asami capture him. Tokyo would burn, and then Hong Kong. 

His ‘owner’ turned towards him. “It’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” he said in a light tone and the next second, he took his coat off and placed it over Feilong’s shoulders. He waited while Feilong covered as much of himself as possible and only then opened the door to the parking lot. A black Mercedes limo was right outside. Feilong would only need to take two steps before he was inside the car. 

Feilong frowned before he started walking. Seemingly considerate people were greater perverts than the ones who acted like perverts. Perhaps he would have been better off with that Mr Bird. 

His ‘owner’ opened the car door for him and then waited for him to get inside. The driver raised an eyebrow when he saw Feilong, clearly surprised, and then raised the divider between the front and back seats of the car. Feilong shuddered and tried to pull the coat closer to him. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I haven’t released you yet,” his ‘owner’ said when he got in. “If I remove the gag, will you promise not to bite?”

Feilong glared, and then he slowly nodded. He wondered when his ‘owner’ would give him the same speech that he’d given Takaba. ‘Do as I tell you, or else’ would be the simplest version. Would this one threaten him with drug addiction or slavery or…? 

The ‘owner’ untied the gag carefully. It took Feilong two seconds to realize that, and then he felt even more suspicious. “I hope that’s better,” his ‘owner’ then said. “Would you like some water?” He didn’t wait for Feilong’s answer, and poured him instead a glass of cold, still, mineral water. Then, he held the glass against Feilong’s lips and waited for him to drink. 

“Thank you,” Feilong said quietly when he was finished. 

“You’re welcome.” His ‘owner’ put the glass down and then, sighing, moved away from Feilong. Only then did he take his mask off. He looked handsome, and Feilong tried not to stare. “What am I to do with you?” 

Feilong bit back his reply. ‘Let me go’ would sound like a pathetic plea at that stage, and not like a command. 

“I obviously can’t let you go, not after spending all that money.” He smiled as if that was beyond his control. “It’s been a long night for both of us, hasn’t it? Some rest would do us good, I think.” The man looked away from him. 

Feilong stared outside. It was easier to focus on the succession of brightly lit signs along the road than his ‘owner’. Whenever they stopped, wherever they went to spend the night, Feilong would kill him. He would kill the driver too, and then … either go after Asami or go home. He couldn’t decide what was best. 

How had Asami managed to take him in the first place? Who had betrayed him? And how was Tao? He sighed and closed his eyes. First he’d kill his ‘owner’ and then deal with everything else. 

A few moments later he felt a slight nudge. “We’re here,” his ‘owner’ said softly. 

Feilong opened his eyes and looked around. He didn’t know where they were, but he could recognize the entrance of an expensive hotel when he saw it. Hadn’t Mr Bird mentioned something about Kyoto in relation to this man? So, his ‘owner’ had obviously decided to spend the night in Tokyo and then go home. He watched as the man slid out of the car and moved towards his side.

Feilong smiled. That would make things easier for him. If his ‘owner’ was not based in Tokyo, it would take longer for his associates to find out that he’d been killed. It would give him extra time to make his escape – or go after Asami. He still didn’t know what he should do. Asami was his obvious target, but so was whoever had betrayed him. 

His ‘owner’ opened the door for him. “Follow me, please.”

Feilong nodded and, gathering the coat around him as much as he could with his bound hands, stepped outside. The marble underneath his feet was freezing but at least the entrance wasn’t far. He hurried after the ‘owner’, smirking when none of the hotel employees raised an eyebrow at seeing a man wearing nothing but a coat follow one of their ‘esteemed’ customers to the elevator. 

For a moment he thought of killing the man when the elevator doors closed behind them, but then, he’d also like to clean up. He’d kill him inside his room, he decided and smiled. He leaned back, and enjoyed the ride up to the top floor. 

“Home, sweet home,” the man smirked as he led Feilong to his room. Feilong smirked back. It was exactly what he had expected: a suite with a spectacular view over Tokyo Bay. “You will stay there, with Nishimura,” the man told him pointing towards a door at the right. “Have you eaten anything? What a stupid question.”

Feilong took a step forward. He could kill the man now, he could, but the man was calling reception and ordering food, and that made him reluctant. He stopped moving. 

When the man put the phone down, he smiled at him widely. “Nishimura will say I’m very stupid, but…” he shrugged. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” He stood up and walked in front of Feilong. “If I release you, will you behave?”

Feilong stared at him. 

“It wasn’t a difficult question, was it? You do understand me, don’t you?” 

Feilong smirked. 

“Then?”

“Fine,” he nodded. “I promise to behave.” For a while, at least. 

The man smiled again. “Thank you.” He took out the key to Feilong’s handcuffs from a compartment in the case hanging from his obi and a moment later released him. 

“Thank you,” Feilong said, and he meant it. He rubbed his wrists. 

“Erm, you can take off the rest of your… gear yourself, right?” The man asked him next, not looking at him, embarrassed. 

Feilong smirked, finding that strangely amusing. “Yes.” 

“Oh, good,” the man sighed with relief. “The bathroom is there. We can talk during dinner, or afterwards, or in the morning, whatever you prefer.”

“Thank you.” He dropped the coat on the floor as he walked to the bathroom, wondering if that too would make his ‘owner’ embarrassed. And then wondering why he would much rather tease the man, rather than think of when to kill him. How strange. 

He glanced at the view over Tokyo Bay from his room for a second. It reminded him of home. Lights and sky and sea. He would go back home, one way or another. It was not a promise, it was a fact.

A shower later, Feilong allowed himself a moment to study himself. He had dark circles under his eyes, and there were a few ugly bruises where the leather harness had been. He’d been better, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered. He wrapped the bathrobe around himself, luxuriating in its thickness and softness. He felt alive and he was ready to go out and kill. Kill that man and his driver and leave. 

His resolve weakened once more when he got out of his side of the suite. The first thing he saw was the food, soup and rice and vegetables. 

“I thought you should have something light, since I don’t know when it was the last time you ate,” the man told him seriously. “But if you prefer….”

“No, that is fine. Thank you.” He sat down. “Thank you for the meal,” he said, going for the soup. The man had been right; he couldn’t even remember when it was the last time he’d had something to eat. This was just perfect. 

By the time he’d finished the meal he felt like the world’s most ungrateful guest. How could he kill this man who’d treated him with such kindness so far? Why couldn’t the man be a pervert? Then he’d feel no guilt about what he wanted to do. 

And then the man’s driver arrived, bringing a number of packages. For him. Clothes, and shoes, and socks, and underwear, and Feilong changed into a comfortable pair of pyjamas with a taste of bile in his throat.

A taste that intensified when the man asked him softly, “Would you like to rest now, or discuss things?”

“To rest, I think.” He didn’t even know why he’d said that. He wanted to kill the man and his driver and go home, but he was feeling clean, and warm, and satiated, and he wanted to sleep so badly. 

“Then rest. We can discuss everything in the morning.”

Feilong went to bed, confused and with his mind divided. The moment he was under the covers, he fell into a deep sleep, thoughts finally quiet. 

&*&*

When Feilong woke up, he had another shower, and then walked outside. The TV was set at a news channel with the sound off. The man and his driver were already up and sitting at the table, the remains of their breakfast in front of them. A third set had been let untouched, waiting for him. 

Feilong sat down. “Good morning,” he said, smiling. It felt like a good morning. 

‘Please, eat. We can talk later.” The man turned the sound on and focused on the news. Feilong felt that he was being given some privacy, and he felt grateful for that. Ah, how could he do what he wanted when this kindness continued? He ate, not paying any attention to the food. 

When Feilong was finished, the man turned towards him again, and pushed a cell phone towards him. “I saw the way Asami looked at you,” the man said seriously. “I saw the way you looked at him. Whatever happened between you is personal and I don’t want to get involved. I just want my money back. Call your people, arrange the exchange and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Feilong stared at the phone. Then at his ‘owner’. “You mean that.”

“I do.” 

Feilong grinned. He called his headquarters. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. At thirteen he hang up. “There’s something wrong.” He called his second in command. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. “Fuck it.” His third. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. “Damn it.”

“Problem?”

“No. not really.” He called home. Tao would pick it up. Or one of the maids. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Perhaps…” The man frowned. “Try again.”

He did. Again. And again. And again. “Fuck it.”

The man took his phone back from his nerveless fingers. Had something happened to Tao? To Baishe? Was that Asami’s doing as well? 

“I think we need to discuss your option now,” the man said quietly. His eyes looked very dark when Feilong looked at him. These were not kind eyes, and Feilong’s doubts vanished. I could kill him now, he thought. Then he saw the dagger in the man’s hand, pointing at him. No, not a dagger, a small sword. 

Feilong tensed. “Options?”

“When I spend my own money, I can do whatever I want with it. But when I spend my House’s money, I have to make a profit. And last night, it was my House’s money that was spent. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get in touch with my people.”

“But what if you won’t? What if you have no people left?”

Feilong froze. “That can’t be.”

“Until we know….” The man shook his head. “You must have guessed what I do for a living. I mostly deal with women, but,” the man grimaced, “I have some… special customers.” He looked away from Feilong. “I could do that for you. Set you up. Provide you with clients. High-class customers. Well-paying customers. You’ll clear your debt to my House in no time.”

Feilong shivered.

The man nodded. “Yes, that’s how I feel about them.” He smiled gently. “Perhaps, you could work for me. I live in a house full of women. I’m tired of their constant company. It would be nice to have someone like a man-servant. It will take longer to clear you debt, since I won’t pay as well as a … customer, but since these are exceptional circumstances, I’m willing to treat you like any of my maids and not charge for food or accommodation, or even clothes.”

“These are my options?” Not real options. He snorted. Asami was so dead. “I grew up killing people,” he said, not knowing why. “I don’t know how to be anyone’s servant.”

“Which means, you have another option,” the man said as if they were discussing the weather. He frowned for a second. “I could arrange things like that for you. People like having others clean up their messes. That would clear up your debt even faster than your first option.” 

Feilong smiled, grateful for the skills he’d picked up in his youth. “I guess I’ll be working for you, then.” Until he found out what happened to his people, and to Tao.

“Thank you. My name is Oriya.”

“I’m Feilong.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Oriya moved slightly closer to him. His expression was curious. “But before we go back home, can you do me one favour?” 

“If I can.”

Oriya smiled slyly. “Oh, I think you can.” 

&*&*

A flight to Nagoya, a short car ride, and three hours later, Feilong found himself staring at a narrow, stone pathway led to a traditional Japanese house, large enough to qualify as a mansion. 

“Please, play along with me,” Oriya told him, speaking to him for the first time in three hours. 

Feilong reluctantly put down the cheap paperback he’d picked up at the airport. It had been a surprisingly gripping read and he wanted to read it to the end. “What do I have to do?” 

“Play along. Just that.”

Oriya walked fast, barely acknowledging the people hurrying to open the doors for him. Feilong followed him. 

“Follow my lead, please,” Oriya told him. 

They had stopped in front of a pair of painted sliding doors. On the painting, a dragon flew over a mountain, and that seemed like an auspicious sign to him. He nodded. 

A maid in a plain kimono ran after Oriya. “Please, Young Master,” she said, bowing deeply and opening the doors for him. 

The room behind them was sparsely furnished, with only one occupant sitting cross-legged on a dais. He was dressed in a drab grey kimono and was studying a board of go, a fan and a bowl next to him. He could have looked ridiculous, but he looked dignified instead, perhaps even a little terrifying. He looked a little like Oriya, Feilong realized a couple of seconds later. 

“Father,” Oriya said, confirming Feilong’s thought.

“Son,” the other man answered. “What’s that?”

“Father,” Oriya started again, “This is my pet.” Oriya pulled Feilong close to him. “This is the reason why I’m not going to get married any time soon, and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped bugging me with marriage proposals and…”

The other man frowned. “Oriya.”

“It’s the truth.” Oriya suddenly kissed Feilong. Feilong froze, and then he played along. Oriya’s mouth was sweet, faintly tasting of peppermint, but mostly tasting of something else, lighter than sugar, darker than sweet bean paste. Feilong suspected it was Oriya himself. For a second, he didn’t mind being kissed. 

A flying fan broke them apart. Feilong raised his hand to catch it; Oriya did the same. The fan fell between them as they stared at each other. 

“Get out of here,” the other man said as he threw go stone after go stone at them. 

Oriya grabbed Feilong’s arm and dragged him out of the room. They ran all the way to the car, and when they got inside, they both started laughing. Feilong stopped first. “Did he believe you?” he asked as the car started moving again. 

Oriya nodded. “Because you tried to catch the fan.”

“I shouldn’t have?”

“No, but you did well. My father knows that I would never choose a lover who wouldn’t be able to take me on a fight. By trying to deflect the attack, you persuaded him that you were mine.” Oriya smiled. “And now we can go home, Nishimura.”

Nishimura smirked at them. He mouthed something that Feilong didn’t catch but that made Oriya laugh. 

Feilong relaxed back on the seat smiling. He was glad he hadn’t killed Oriya when he had the chance. He closed his eyes, listening to Oriya’s laughter fade into a soft chuckle. He ran his tongue inside his mouth, looking for traces of sweetness. He wanted to kiss Oriya again.


	4. Chapter 4

Feilong had finished his book soon after they had left his father’s house, and then had been quiet for the rest of the journey, looking out of the window as if he were nothing but a tourist. As they were finally navigating the streets of Kyoto, Oriya decided that they had to talk. He cleared his throat and smiled when Feilong finally looked at him. “You understand, I can’t introduce you as an assassin at my household. You’ll need a cover.”

“I’ll be your servant, you mean.”

Oriya grinned. 

Feilong grimaced, turned away from him and studied the rapidly changing scenery for a while. “It’s not like I have a choice. Do you want me to thank you?”

“No.” One day, he’d ask Feilong about what happened between him and Asami. He couldn’t imagine Asami selling someone to this kind of slavery just for profit. Not when he thought back at the way Asami had looked or the way Feilong had reacted. 

Feilong glanced at him sideways. Then he turned his attention back to the traffic. 

“I’ll let you know what your duties will be when we get to the house. But, your main duty when we get there will be to learn your way around the house. You’ll need to learn who everyone is, where all the entrances and exits are, the hiding places, the places for our most esteemed customers.” Oriya snorted. ‘Esteemed customers,’ what a joke. Eeveryone who walked into his house was scum. But Feilong would soon discover that on his own. 

Feilong looked at him for a second. “Esteemed customers,” he said finally, slowly. 

Oriya nodded. 

Feilong snorted. “I’m even worse at serving customers than I am at serving others.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to serve them.” Oriya was horrified that Feilong had even considered it. “It takes years of training to do that. Besides, they prefer women.” 

Feilong let out a sigh of relief, and then looked outside, as if embarrassed. 

“Well, most of them,” Oriya said, grinning. His grin widened when Feilong paled. “If anyone makes a pass at you, just ignore them. If they persist, then…. Then, you can still ignore them,” he grinned again.

“I’d rather kill them,” Feilong hissed. 

“Not everything is solved with violence.” Oriya snorted. “You know, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m getting old.” He suddenly leaned close to Feilong. “When I introduce you to my staff, please, play along.”

“Play along? Again?” Feilong smiled for a second, a truly amused smile. “Will they throw go stones at me?”

“No. They wouldn’t dare.” 

“Your father did.”

“He’s …” Oriya frowned. For some reason, he wanted to talk to Feilong about his father. Perhaps he was being honest when he’d introduced Feilong as his ‘pet’. Not that Feilong was really his pet; but perhaps he did need a pet. Or maybe a friend. He smiled again, hoping to end the discussion. “He’s different.”

Feilong nodded. He looked out again as the car slowed down. “We’re here?”

“Yes.” He smiled at the sight of Kokakurou. His House caused him nothing but grief, but it was still home. He almost bounced out of the car when Nishimura finally stopped. “I’m home,” he shouted.

“Young Master,” Hanako and Ayako smiled, shaking their heads as they opened the door for him. 

“Nishimura, thank you for your work. Will you please show Feilong around?” Ah, he was finally home. He couldn’t wait to have a hot bath. And then food. And sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Feilong was not surprised by the fact that the restaurant Oriya was running was actually an old, elegant building in the heart of Gion, nor by the small army of women that greeted Oriya once they were inside. From the first time he’d saw him, wearing that strange, almost frightening fox mask he had decided he would not be surprised by anything he saw. So far, he felt that he had made the right decision. 

Oriya had been anything but strange or frightening when his mask was off. Although he looked utterly Japanese moving around the high-tech hotel suite in his kimono, like those pictures of maiko talking in mobile phones. As Japanese as his father in his traditional mansion. As Japanese as his house. 

He was not even surprised by the way everyone stared at him. If he could understand the reason why they stared, he might have even felt relaxed, or at least, able to deal it. It was more than curiosity; he felt that. It was only when the greetings and introductions were over, and behind closed doors that he found out.

A short, frail, old woman dragged him inside a room together with Oriya. “Your Father called me,” she said. 

Oriya shuddered.

“So, that’s your ‘pet’?” she sneered and hit Oriya first and then Feilong with her fan. “If you hired him as the new security guard, as you just announced to everyone, why did you have to upset your Father so much? You ungrateful child.”

“But…”

“Shut up.”

Oriya shut up. 

“Also, I thought you went to buy women, not hire a security guard. You…” She hit Oriya again and shook her head. “What were you thinking?”

“Well…”

“No, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” She hit Feilong on the head. “And you’d better behave, or else. How could you lie to the Old Master? You look like a sensible young man. You shouldn’t listen to Oriya, and follow his hare-brained schemes.”

Feilong nodded. “Yes, Ma’m.”

She sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” She turned towards Oriya. “Yes, you. Your Father was furious.” She sighed again. “Is this because of the Doctor?”

Oriya sighed. “No.” He stood up. “I’m tired from the journey. Bye.” 

The old woman shook her head. “What am I going to do with that child? None of us are getting any younger.” She sighed and turned back to Feilong. “The Young Master said you are to move freely around the House, until you find your bearings. Fine. But next time the Young Master asks you to do something stupid, please tell him ‘no’.”

Feilong nodded. “Yes, Ma’m.”

“See? A sensible, respectful young man like yourself shouldn’t be doing stupid things because the Young Master said so.” She raised her fan, but instead of hitting him, she pointed to the door. “Off you go.”

Feilong didn’t have to be told twice. Outside, he looked around him. Nishimura was standing two steps away, ostensibly cleaning some plates. “So, you met Tami-san,” he smiled. “Best not to anger her. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

He nodded. He’d do as he’d been told: he’d meet everyone in the house, learn who they were and what they did, and then discover all the entrances and exits and hiding places. Learn, gather information, and wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Oriya lay down on the floor. All the energy he had felt when he’d arrived had left him suddenly. Was this really because of Muraki? Perhaps it was; he wasn’t sure. He raised his hand and studied the lines in his palm. Muraki claimed he could tell a person’s character and future through these lines. But he’d never told him his future. Once, he’d held his palm, studied his hand and then let it go, saying that some things were better left unsaid, smiling. Muraki’s voice had been kind, his tone gentle, and his hand had been warm and dry. But Oriya could not remember; had it been spring or summer? Day or evening? 

The little cat nudged him. The bell hanging from the ribbon around her neck tinkled a couple of times as she settled against his feet. For a ghost she felt surprisingly warm. “I still haven’t named you,” he said. “Do you want to be named?”

She lifted her head slightly and looked at him through half-slit eyes. Does it matter if you do? she seemed to mean. 

“I guess not.”

He reached down to pet her, and she purred when he did. When he pulled her closer to him, she didn’t protest. 

“All I have is a goldfish and a ghost.” 

She licked his hand. Her tongue was freezing cold. 

Perhaps it was all Muraki’s fault. Or maybe his. Oriya rolled over, still cradling the little cat against his chest, and picked up the phone. Several numbers and a couple of rings later the call was picked up. “Ito, I need to know everything about Asami. The one who owns Club Sion in Tokyo. Special emphasis on recent history.”

“I thought you already knew everything,” Ito answered, somewhat teasingly. 

“Only the basics. I’m not that interested in what happens there, if it does not affect me.”

“Is that wise?”

Oriya snorted. “See if I care about what you think. Besides, why am I paying you?”

“True.”

“Good. Go, earn your keep.” Oriya laughed.

Ito laughed back. “Slave driver. I’ll call you as soon as I have everything. Better yet, I could come over. Surely you can offer a meal to your humble servant.”

“Get me what I want and I’ll offer you the House Special.”

“Yeah.” Even through the phone Oriya could see Ito punching the air and grinning like a madman. “Talk to you later.”

Oriya snorted as Ito cut him off. Typical. He petted the cat a few more times and then he sat up slowly. “I have to get ready for tonight,” he told her as he put her down. She clawed the hem of his kimono instead. “I really must.” She looked up pleadingly. “Come on.” She didn’t let go, and started mewing as well. “Just five more minutes, alright?” He knelt down carefully and went back to petting her. What a spoilt little thing she was. “I brought a new person into the House.” He took out the gag that had been used on Feilong the previous night and made the cat smell it. “I’ve told Nishimura to keep an eye on him, but if he goes away, will you find him for me?”

The cat stared up at him. Of course, her expression clearly said. Do you think I’m an idiot? I know what my duties are.

Oriya sat on the floor and hugged her properly, keeping Feilong’s gag pressed near her. “Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first person Feilong saw, besides Nishimura, was a young girl in a simple, striped kimono. She bowed to him slightly. “Hello.”

The temptation was too great. “He…”

“Hello,” she said again. 

“Me speak little. No Japan.”

She stared at him. “Japanese,” she corrected him, and then she blushed. “Or, you mean you’re not from Japan?”

He shook his head. “Me no understand.”

“Ah.” She smiled. “My name is Mari.” She pointed at herself. “Mari. Mari. Your name?” She pointed at him.

Feilong smiled and pointed at himself. “Me?” He hadn’t thought of that.

“Yes, you.” Mari sighed. “My name is Mari. Yours?”

“Fei,” he decided. 

“Pleased to meet you, Fei.” She smiled, practically beaming. “So, you’ll be working here from now on? If the Young Master said so, then it must be so.” Her tone was soft. “I only started working here recently, so I don’t know much, but I know my way around the house. Do you want me to show you?”

Feilong stared at her as if he didn’t understand a word she was saying. 

She gestured around her. “The House.” Then she pointed at herself again. “Mari show Fei.”

He grinned, trying not to laugh. “Mari show me?”

She nodded and then, shyly, touched the edge of his sleeve. “Follow me.” 

He did. 

“This is a room reserved for the customers,” she said as she opened the first door to their right. 

An almost empty room. Just as empty as the next room, and the room after that. He bit the inside of his lip. Pretending not to speak the language would make others careless, but this way he couldn’t ask anything. When Mari opened the door to the fourth dining room, he stopped her and gestured around. “Things?”

Mari smiled. “Upstairs,” she said as she pointed. “Or there,” she pointed towards the other side of the house. “Or there.” She pointed towards the storehouse. 

“Ah.” 

She nodded. “I’m not allowed there, or there,” she pointed upstairs, “but I don’t mind.” She looked up, and smiled again. “Do you want some tea?” She cupped her hands together and made a drinking gesture. “Tea?”

He nodded. 

She guided him towards another area of the house. “Here is the kitchen,” she said as she started heating water. “Kitchen.” An old-fashioned, extremely clean and tidy kitchen. With the first phone he’d seen in the house. Mari looked uncomfortable as she poured warm water in an old, brown teapot. She threw it out and only then added the leaves and more water. “I’m not good at making tea,” she said, blushing, offering him a dark, green cup and choosing a similar one, chipped at the side, for herself. When she noticed him staring at the mugs, she blushed further. “These are mine.” She pointed at the mugs and then herself. “Mine. I brought them from home.”

Feilong frowned. 

Mari opened a drawer. He refused to be surprised by the number, and the quality of the cups and bowls stacked there. “They told me I could use any of these, but I got scared.” She took out a white cup with uneven edges. It fit into her palms perfectly. “This is my favourite.” She offered it to him. 

He held it for a second. The texture of the exterior was rough, but not unpleasant. The kind of cup that would feel comforting after a day’s work, anything in it refreshing after the sun’s warmth and the body’s weariness. He smiled as he put it back. “Nice.”

“Pretty,” she corrected him. She held her own cup for a while, blowing on her tea. “I have to go back to work. Will you be alright?” 

He shrugged, and then stared at his tea. The sooner she left the better. 

Mari finished her tea in two gulps. “See you later,” she smiled. 

He smiled back. The moment she was out, he looked around, closed the door behind him and rushed to the phone. “Tao, please pick it up.” He could worry about Baishe later, but Tao was his family. 

On the fifth ring he felt someone behind him. A ring later, Nishimura was crashing his fingers in his fist. Feilong whirled around, trying to jab him with his elbow, and Nishimura grabbed his other hand. “Let me go.”

Nishimura shook his head. “I don’t think the Young Master will like that.”

He glared at Nishimura. “Let me go.” Nishimura’s eyes widened. He let him go immediately. Feilong punched him, smirking when his blow brought Nishimura to his knees. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Nishimura cradled his stomach. “Who are you exactly?”

“Someone you shouldn’t mess with.” He started dialing home again. “I’d like some privacy now.” He smiled. “I won’t run away. You have my word.”

Nishimura ran out of the kitchen. People often ran away when he smiled. One day, he’d smile like that in front of a mirror. He wondered if he would be frightened by what he would see, or proud. “But, first, Tao.”


	8. Chapter 8

Oriya offered Nishimura another cup of tea. “You did the right thing. If he wants to use the phone again, let him.”

“But…”

“The sooner he gets in touch with his people, the sooner I’ll get my money back and he’ll be out of here. That’s all I want.” He smiled. “I want you to continue keeping an eye on him but let him be as free as possible.”

“What if he gets in touch with his people and they come here with guns, looking for revenge?”

Oriya snorted. “You haven’t been here long, have you? That will never happen.”

“The Young Mas…”

There was a soft knock on the door. A moment later, Feilong opened it. He stood at the entrance, looked around, smirked slightly at Nishimura and then frowned. “I can’t get in touch with my family.”

“As I said, you have other options.”

Feilong closed the door. He took a very deep breath, staring ahead but not really seeing anyone. 

“Nishimura, leave us.”

Nishimura grimaced, shook his head for the briefest moment, but obeyed. When the door was closed again and they were alone, Feilong took another deep breath, and blinked. He finally saw Oriya and then, he looked down and stared at his hands. 

Nishimura had been wrong; Feilong was not a beast, just a very proud man. Oriya could break his pride for a moment, and then Feilong would hate him forever. He sighed. “You want me to find out what happened to your family?”

Feilong looked at him. “I’ll pay you. When I can.”

Oriya shook his head. Just by taking Feilong into his House he had gotten involved in whatever was between him and Asami. And by taking him into his House, he had committed himself. “I take care of the people who work for me. No payment is required.” He smiled. Loyalty was expected instead, and allegiance to his House. If Feilong understood that on his own, then it would be worth taking sides in the fight between Asami and Feilong. 

Feilong stared at him, calculating. He finally bowed slightly. “I won’t work for you forever, as I won’t be in your debt forever. But when my time comes, we might become allies.”

Oriya smiled. “You’ll remember me when you come into your kingdom?” He snorted. “My best friend was very religious, in his own way. He used to…” Oriya shut his eyes tightly for a second. Everything that had to do with Muraki hurt him those days. When he opened his eyes, he found Feilong staring at him with the same calculating, almost vicious calmness. “Yes, we might become allies then.”

Feilong relaxed slightly. 

Oriya stood up. “I need to start getting ready, or else one of my maids will come in and dress me up. Why don’t you tell me what I need to know while I find tonight’s outfit?”


	9. Chapter 9

Feilong didn’t know why, but he trusted Oriya to help him, and that made him feel more relaxed. Even though he could have continued with his exploration of the house, he preferred to stay outside the room where Oriya was entertaining one of his customers. He couldn’t make out all the words of the songs, but the sounds were beautiful. When he looked at the garden, he could almost imagine that this was all for his benefit. 

“Perhaps I’ll come back as a customer after I take care of everything,” he muttered. 

The door slid open behind him. Feilong pulled away from the path of the man that barreled out, escorted by a pretty woman who could easily have been his granddaughter. The man barely glanced at him as he made his way towards the toilet, but it was enough for Feilong to recognize him. He peeked inside. “Was that…?”

“Yes.”

Feilong snorted. “I’m almost impressed.”

“I run a very exclusive restaurant.”

One of the geisha behind Oriya giggled. Then she studied Feilong. “Your new security guard?”

“Yes.” Oriya smirked. “He doesn’t really speak Japanese, you know.”

“He sounded proficient enough a moment ago.” Her gaze turned predatory. “Besides, who said we need to speak? The language of love is enough.”

“Love?” Feilong asked, smiling. 

“Love, sex. Pfff.” She made a gesture. “They’re both the same.” She turned to look at Oriya. “Even when…”

The politician came back at exactly that moment. Unlike before, he stopped and studied Feilong with an expression that turned more and more interested the more he looked. Feilong narrowed his eyes and waited. “That’s a pretty thing,” he told Oriya. 

“That’s the new security guard.”

The politician smirked. “And who will protect him?” He raised his hand. “Pretty.” Before he could touch Feilong, Feilong grabbed his wrist. Next he grabbed the man’s other hand. “The hell? Let me go. Do you hear me?” Feilong kept tightening his grip until the idiot fell to his knees, moaning. 

Oriya laughed. “I think he can protect himself, Minister.”

“What on earth? This is…”

Feilong grinned, and wondered if he should break his wrists or not. 

Oriya knelt next to the man. With both hands on the Minister’s shoulders, he kept him down. “One should enjoy what’s on the menu only.” He smiled, and Feilong admitted that it was a scary smile. “After all the trouble I’ve taken to arrange everything to your liking.” The Minister paled. “Let him go,” Oriya told him, and Feilong obeyed. The moment the Minister started rubbing his wrists, Oriya pushed him on the floor. There was a dull thud as the Minister hit the floor. 

Feilong lifted the Minister’s head. “He stinks.”

“He’s drunk,” Oriya said, looking utterly disgusted. “Let him sleep it off,” he told the women in the room. “If he can still get it up afterwards, then you can deal with him. If not…” He shrugged a little, and then he stood up. “And that’s it for tonight.” He grinned. “I can have the night off.”

The geisha shot him a really annoyed look. “That’s not fair.”

“Yes, but…” Oriya laughed. “Fei, with me.”

Feilong nodded and waited until they were out of the room. “I tried to ignore him, but…”

Oriya snorted. “Really?”

“No.”

“Good.” Oriya laughed. “You should always ignore them like that. Anyway, I just remembered. Has anyone shown you your room yet?”

“No.”

“How negligent of me.” He smiled. “Come on.”

Feilong followed him. He still didn’t know exactly why, but he was finally and completely relaxed. 

&*&*

It took Feilong two days to learn everything about the house, not because it was that difficult, but because he had his pride. What kind of an assassin was he, if he let people observe him when he worked? But, by the end of these two days he knew exactly which doors were locked, and how they could be unlocked, and where they led. 

Once that was done, Oriya started giving him different tasks during the day. ‘Go buy this, go buy that, and go give that to that man on your way back.’ By the end of the week, he was as comfortable around Gion as he had been in his house, and knew Kyoto like the back of his palm. Perhaps as important, he had connections; he was recognised as one of Oriya’s people, and he was constantly surprised at the trust people showed him once they realised that. 

The nights were different, though. People showed him neither trust, nor respect (until he beat them down). What they showed was appreciation of a different kind. That stupid Minister had been but the first of a series of even stupider customers who kept leering at him at best, and trying to feel him up at worst. Not one from the staff helped him whenever that happened, but they never tried to stop him when he taught the impertinent customers a lesson. And mostly they stopped trying to touch him after that, but they kept leering and soon Feilong realised that for some it was quite the turn on to be beaten down by a handsome, young man. Rotten perverts, all of them.

And still, he had no news from home. Whenever he had a break from his daily tasks, or his nightly duties, his mind turned to Tao. If anything had happened to him, he’d kill Takaba in front of Asami and then torture Asami until he begged for mercy. Not that he’d show him any. And then, he’d turn to his traitorous associates and show them why he had become the leader of Baishe. He didn’t know exactly how he’d do these things, but he’d do them. 

“Fei?” Mari interrupted him with a smile and a blush.

He nodded.

“The Young Master wants to see you. He’s in his room.” When he started to move, she cleared her throat. “Would you like to have tea afterwards? You haven’t taken a break in ages.” She made a drinking gesture. “Tea?”

He smiled. “Maybe?”

“Not maybe. You’re supposed to say yes.” She pouted and then ran away from him. Feilong smiled again. She seemed less shy around him than other people, perhaps because she didn’t think he could understand her. Sweet, in a way.

Oriya, lucky bastard, was taking another night off. Feilong knocked on the door and then walked into a completely dark room. “Should I turn the light on? Or maybe light a candle?”

Oriya groaned from somewhere on the floor. “Don’t you dare.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Ah.” Oriya sighed. “Maybe a candle, then. But keep it away from me.”

Feilong fumbled around until he got a small lamp lit. Oriya turned away from the light immediately, sighing. “Photophobia?”

“Migraine.”

“Ah.” Feilong felt a little sorry for him. “Does it happen often?”

“No. But when it does, it’s horrible.” Oriya turned towards him slowly. He looked unwell, paler than usual and kind of tired, messy, like he had just woken up. He pushed an envelope towards Feilong. 

Feilong froze. “Is that…?”

“Sorry. But my people are working on it non-stop. The moment I know, you’ll know too.”

“Thank you.” He sat down, not moving. “So, what’s that?”

“A job.” Oriya pulled the envelope back and then threw it at Feilong. “Or you’ve changed your mind?”

What other options did he have? “No. What kind of a job?”

“An unsavoury one.” Oriya grimaced. “I don’t like it, you know.”

“But you won’t stop me. You facilitate it.”

“I’m doing you a favour.” Oriya’s tone was cold, and his expression still tired. 

“So, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t do this?” He smirked and tore the envelope open. “Right.”

“I provide services.” He still looked tired. “That man is causing trouble to some associates. He has to be taken care of. You don’t have to make it look like an accident. You don’t have to worry about cleaning up. Just, take care of it.”

“And then?”

“Give me a call, and I’ll deal with the rest.”

Feilong raised an eyebrow. “Fine,” he said as he started reading the papers that had been inside. The man’s house was in the outskirts of the city, and right across Gion. At this hour he’d need a car to go there and, since it was in a purely residential area, he’d have to park quite far away so as not to be noticed. He’d need more than two hours to do this. “Tonight?” 

“No time like the present.” Oriya sat up and offered him a small something wrapped in red silk. 

Feilong moved for that, and unwrapped it carefully. The Glock 23 was a pleasant surprise. “One of my favourites,” he said. 

“You look the type.”

He picked it up. A car key was underneath that. He picked that too. 

“That idiot from the Ministry of Land and so on is here today, isn’t he?”

Feilong nodded, grimacing. He was one of the idiots that seemed to like being abused by him.

“Make sure he sees you now, and when you come back. Please, don’t beat him unconscious tonight, at least not before you finish your job.”

“He’s going to be my alibi?”

Oriya snorted. “If everything goes well, you won’t need one. But he’s a good customer; we should try to keep him happy.” He laughed a little and then he groaned. “I’m sorry,” he said as he lay down again, turning away from Feilong. “Leave these documents here. Or better yet, give them to me when you’re done.” He pulled the covers up again. 

Feilong read everything again twice. Every now and then, he thought that Oriya was murmuring to someone, but how could he? They were alone. When he was finished, he put everything back into the envelope and made to place it by Oriya’s side. Oriya raised his hand and took the envelope from him without even looking. Feilong stopped. “If you have a migraine, are you sure you want me to call you? Won’t the noise bother you?”

Oriya looked back at him. “That’s very considerate,” he said quietly. “Call Nishimura.” Feilong made to leave when Oriya’s voice stopped him again. “Fei? Thank you.”

He smiled. “It’s my job, remember?”

“I do.” Oriya sounded tired again. “Take care.”

“You too.”

Feilong could have sworn that he heard Oriya whisper, ‘he’s not bad, really,’ to someone when he closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Nishimura drank his tea slowly. “We made it look a burglary, following Fei’s cue.”

“Good. What did you think?”

“It was a clean, neat job. Fei shot him in his bed while he was sleeping. We only messed up the place a bit, took a few things and…” Nishimura made a vague gesture. “We didn’t even have to clean much.” He snorted. “Unlike when we were dealing with the Doctor’s messes. Believe me, I’m glad Fei’s your new… handyman.”

“The Doctor was never my handyman.”

Nishimura took a sip from his tea, probably in an attempt to hide his smile. “Maybe,” he finally said, “but he always managed to take care of things that could hurt the Young Master.”

“And for each of these, we had to take care of everything that was done just for his benefit.” 

“It’s called reciprocity,” Nishimura smirked. 

Oriya narrowed his eyes and glared at him for a second. “Well, yes,” he agreed in the end. 

Nishimura nodded. He put his cup down. “I’d better be going. I didn’t sleep at all last night and so, if the Young Master doesn’t need anything?” 

Oriya shook his head. “Why don’t you ever call me Oriya?”

Nishimura stared, horrified. 

“Forget I asked. Take today and tomorrow off. You deserve it.” 

Nishimura bowed before leaving. That left him alone again. He looked at the sword stand. Practicing was a possibility, but ever since he’d fought that young Shinigami, that young man who deserved only happiness after what Muraki had put him through, he found it more and more difficult to do that. Enabling Muraki and providing all those disgusting services was one thing, but raising his sword against a victim was more than even he could stomach. When Ukyou visited, he picked it up because he didn’t want her to think he’d changed, but on his own? 

He sighed. He was the only one wallowing in the past; he was certain of that. Muraki had moved on, and so had Ukyou, his household was always living in the present, and even Fei, despite of all he’d been through, was looking ahead. What was he doing? 

When he got up to pick up his sword, he felt the Spirit of the House ruffle his hair.


	11. Chapter 11

Mari pointed to the bowl. “This is a bowl.”

Feilong ignored her. Every now and then he caught glimpses of Oriya in the garden and that was more interesting than…

Mari suddenly pinched him. “You’re not paying attention. How will you learn Japanese if you don’t listen to me?” She sighed. “I only want to help you.” 

He pointed out. Oriya was slicing down an imaginary opponent with beautiful precision. 

“The Young Master?” Mari looked around. “He’s practicing iaido.” She frowned. “How to explain this?” She gestured towards Fei and then herself. “Two people.”

“Two people,” he repeated.

“Two people kendo.” She made a gesture as if yielding a sword. “One person,” she pointed towards Oriya, “iaido.”

Feilong nodded. “Ah. Understand. Three people?”

She shook her head. “Three people wrong.” She made a forbidding gesture. “No no. Wrong.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t look convinced.” Mari sighed. “Or it that you don’t understand? I too don’t understand.” She looked at him. “Why did you come to work for the Young Master? Are you running away from something? It’d be okay, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”

Feilong frowned. “No understand.”

Mari suddenly stood up. She looked around and, seeing no one, leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. When she pulled away, she was blushing furiously, but also smiling. “I … I like you, Fei.”

Feilong touched his mouth. “I…”

“Yes?”

She looked at him expectantly. Her blush had not subsided. Something in her manner reminder him of Takaba; not as he had seen him, but as he imagined Takaba with Asami. It made him wonder. “Date?” he asked, standing up. 

She smiled. “Date,” she said as she hugged him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, just as softly. 

Feilong hugged her back and didn’t force her mouth open, content for that slight touch. She was not the kind of woman he would have dated back in Hong Kong. There was nothing glamorous or even beautiful about her. Her looks were average, her youth making her glow in a way that would vanish later on. But that Takaba-like innocence and fearlessness were attractive. 

Mari let her head fall and rest against his chest. He could feel her smiling. He could smell her hair, freshly washed, the scent somewhat fruity and sweet. She had the same slight built as Takaba, easily fitting within his embrace, but softer, more pliant. It was as if he had been given a chance to make things work for him, and when they did, he could take her back with him, and give her a life she only dreamed about. 

Feilong lifted her head and kissed her. This time, he licked her lips and made her open her mouth for him. She was shy and hesitant and bad at it, not knowing how to follow his lead. She tasted of green tea. Takaba’s kisses had never felt like that, but she was the closest he would ever get to Takaba, and so he decided that he would like it.


	12. Chapter 12

It was another week before Oriya had another job suitable for Fei’s expertise. A whole week in which he watched Fei charm and abuse his customers, selfishly happy they had someone else to pester – the bloody perverts. A whole week in which he realised that Fei had seduced the latest addition to his staff, or perhaps she had seduced him, awkwardly quiet because he didn’t have a policy about staff members having relationships. A whole week in which nothing else had changed, leaving him strangely dissatisfied because the more things stayed the same, the more he felt like drowning. 

“This time you’ll have to do the research,” he said as he handed Fei a folder with the name and address of his target. 

Fei opened the folder, scanned the document and smiled. “Is that a test?”

“Is that what you think? I don’t always have the time or the resources to provide you with house plans and details of people’s schedules.” 

Fei smirked. “I still think it’s a test. First you check if I can really kill. Next if I can approach someone and kill them undetected. Then…” He snorted. “Then you’ll probably give me the real job you hired me for.”

“That’s an interesting hypothesis.” And almost completely true. 

“Hypothesis, huh?” Fei smirked again. “Whatever.” He folded the paper in four and put it in his pocket. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Wait.”

“Yes?” Fei stopped in mid-motion, a barely tamed animal. 

“You and Mari.”

Fei’s expression changed; became even more vicious. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure.”

“About what?” Fei’s eyes had narrowed, and his tone was low. 

“That you are together.” 

“Is there a problem?”

“No. I’m certain you’ll be good for her.” He smiled. “She seems a little shy around others, and awkward. Perhaps having a boyfriend will make her more confident. And it’s nice that it’s you – you can definitely protect her from anyone.”

Fei’s expression had been changing as he talked, first still vicious, then disbelieving, then guilty for a second. “I can’t protect her from myself,” Fei said after a few moments of looking down. 

“I’m certain you won’t have to.”

Fei stared at him. “How can you say that even after knowing what you know about me?”

“What do I know about you?” Oriya smiled. “I know that you went through difficult times after your father died. I know that you took control of a group in danger of being destroyed and you held it together. I know you were tough, but that was what brought your group to the top.” He grinned. “I know you can hold a grudge. But she’s never hurt you, and she never will. This gives you no reason to hurt her.”

Fei stayed speechless for a while. “You know all these things about me, and yet you still don’t know anything about how my group, or Tao, are doing at the moment,” he said bitterly. 

Oriya sighed. “Would it matter if I told you about your group, but not about your family?”

Fei sat down. “What do you know?”

“Your second has taken control of Baishe. He’s taken Tao somewhere, but I have no idea where.”

“How could he? The bastard.”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

Fei froze. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Fei was quiet, looking down. “Would you rather go back?”

“What do you think?” Fei grabbed the folder that was still next to him on the floor and threw it at Oriya. “Fuck.”

“My sources tell me your former second likes his current position. Could you deal with that as you are?”

Fei glared at him. “As I am?” he hissed in that low, dangerous tone. 

“On your own,” Oriya said simply. “When you first took control of Baishe, you were not alone, were you?”

Fei looked at him through eyes so narrowed they looked like carved slits. He suddenly sat up and rushed out of the room sliding the door open with such force, he almost tore it away. 

Oriya sighed. That’s why he didn’t want to tell him anything. At least not before he had some good news to make the bad ones more bearable. He stood up and went to his desk. He had a full night ahead, so he had to start getting ready. Hopefully, Fei would calm down enough by the time the customers started arriving. He didn’t want… 

Fei came in with a lot less noise than he had walked out. He even closed the door fairly quietly. He stared at him for a while. “If I work for you,” he started and then stopped for a few seconds. “I mean, if I work for you after I repay my debt, will you help me take back Baishe?”

“I’m not in that business,” he said quietly.

“Bullshit,” Fei spat on the floor. “You were in Asami’s ‘auction’. You were his guest. Don’t tell me you’re not in the same business as him.”

Oriya sighed. “I’m not. But my father is.”

Fei’s lips moved. He almost smiled; it looked more like a pained grimace. “We have a deal?”

‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’ Wasn’t that how that proverb went? And didn’t he think that since he’d go to hell for his sins, he might as well sin properly? He nodded. “We do.”

Fei nodded as well. “Good.” He suddenly smiled. It still didn’t look like a happy smile, or even one of amusement. “So, will you stop testing me and give me proper jobs? I…”

Oriya cut him off. “I’m giving you what comes my way. I’m not in that business either, you know.”

“Hm.” Fei snorted and left the room again, quietly. 

He put his hand over his forehead, closed his eyes and sighed. Why on earth had he gotten involved?


	13. Chapter 13

Feilong sat at the edge of the garden trying to calm himself further. The bastard second of his. How could he have done that to him? He was chosen by him, raised to the top by him, sworn to serve him and only him. Bastard. So much for loyalty and devotion. These ideas might have worked well for Oriya and his staff, who all pretended to live in the eighteenth century, but they did not apply in the real world. They did not apply in Fei’s world. 

When he got back, he’d… He bit his hand. When he got back. The more time passed, the more his situation seemed to get worse. He didn’t even know how many jobs he’d have to do before he repaid his debt. Perhaps he should try to escape, but then what? Even if Oriya was nothing like him – and he suspected that where investments were concerned, Oriya was just as possessive and self-interested as he was – could he really take on Baishe on his own? Would he able to sway at least some of his men back under his control or would that bastard take him down before that?

It would be so easy to blame Asami for everything. But perhaps he should have killed Oriya when he had his chance, instead of getting further and further into his debt and - 

“Fei?” Mari touched him softly on the shoulder. 

He batted her hand away before he remembered what she was to him. “Sorry.”

She looked slightly hurt, but mostly she looked concerned. “Fei? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.” She smiled. “Even when I don’t understand, it might be good for you to talk to someone about what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing,” he said again, a bit more forcefully. Why couldn’t he see a way out of this situation? 

Mari sat next to him. “I’m here, if you want to talk.”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” She kept staring at him with nothing but concern and it was more than he could stand. He reached for her, and pulled her close to him. “Family. Problems,” he said quietly, trying to apologize with his tone. 

She took his hand and kissed it. “Everything will be alright. You’ll see.”

Was this the kind of support Takaba would have given Asami? Platitudes and reassurances, or perhaps something more substantial? Would Asami have even let himself be dragged into this kind of situation? He moved Mari away from him gently. “Work now,” he told her. 

“You shouldn’t hide behind work,” Mari chided him softly. But she smiled, raised herself up and kissed him on the cheek. “Work.”

“Work,” he repeated. Until he found another way out, he’d work to repay his debt. Was that how Oriya’s women felt? Sold into a slavery they hadn’t chosen and unable to find a solution to their problems? He smiled and kissed Mari on the lips. When he went back, he’d never bed a prostitute again.


	14. Chapter 14

The best part of his work was when his precious customer was either dead drunk, or in one of the private rooms with one of his women. That meant his work was done, at least for a while. Oriya let out the sigh he’d been holding throughout the evening. Without Fei around, the bloody pig had made a pass at him and he’d barely managed to keep himself from breaking the pig’s arm. Only when the pig had retired with the woman Oriya had chosen for him, did he let go of his anger. “Why do they pretend to be interested in my women when all they want is to…?” He sighed again.

Sayoko stopped tidying up for a second. “If the Young Master...” She stopped when Oriya looked at her. “But it’s the truth,” she mumbled as she looked down again.

“Japan is full of perverts,” Oriya complained. 

“Willing to spend their money here,” Sayoko muttered.

“Yes, there’s that.” 

Sayoko snorted. “A least, when Fei is here, the Young Master is not the only one harassed.” She looked up again. “Perhaps the Young Master should expand his business.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “Well, men are men. As long as they can stick it somewhere, they don’t care if the hole belongs to a man or a woman.” 

“But this…” Oriya shuddered. “We have traditions here.” Everything else took place elsewhere. Away from home. 

“Yes, but…” She sighed, smiling. “Ever since the Young Master took over, most people are curious to see him. Forgive me for saying that, but even when they come for the women, they’d still like to…” She laughed. “The Young Master is just too attractive.”

“The Young Master is not that young anymore.”

“But he’s still the Young Master here. I remember when the Mistress was here, everyone was vying for her attention. It didn’t matter that she was married, or that she never looked at anyone but the Master, they still wanted to have her.”

“And you think that if the business expands, as you put it, that the customers might become less annoying?”

“At least they’ll be able to channel their urges somewhere.”

“That’s why we have women.”

“But it’s not the same, is it?” She frowned. “Is it?” she asked seriously.

“How on earth would I know?” He stood up, stretched and calculated the distance between him and the door. If Sayoko didn’t stop him, he could leave the room in five seconds. 

“But, the Young Master is a man of the world. He must know.” Sayoko’s eyes gleamed. He didn’t like it. “I’ve read,” she started.

Oriya didn’t wait to hear her till the end. “I’m very, very tired,” he announced as he started walking out of the room as quickly as possible. Perhaps Sayoko might even think that he was running out, but he didn’t care. 

Sayoko laughed behind him. “And then the Young Master says he’s old. Should I send a girl over tonight?”

“No.”

“Or maybe…?”

“No,” he shouted. The moment he was out, he ran to his room. Ah, damn them all.


	15. Chapter 15

Feilong knocked quietly and then opened the door to Oriya’s room. “Mission accomplished,” he said and if Oriya said something like ‘took you long enough’, Feilong would punch him. So what if it had taken him five days of following the target around before he could find the right time to strike? 

Oriya looked up from his notes and smiled. “Thank you.” He scribbled something down. 

Feilong frowned. “If that’s all…”

“Yes. I’m sorry; I haven’t got anything for you right now.” He grinned. “You’ll have to put up with the old lechers tonight.”

He grimaced. “Fine. See you later, then.”

“Yes.” Oriya went back to his notes. 

He walked out, closing the door softly. Why had he expected praise for a second? Wasn’t he doing a job? He was no dog, to need a pat on the head. He looked at the garden, because the temptation to go back into Oriya’s room and ask if Oriya was happy with his performance was too great. He sank to the floor. It was exactly the same reassurance he’d needed whenever he finished a job when he was young, still living with his family. The same way of opening the door quietly, reporting awkwardly, with few details, and then expecting to be praised, needing it. 

He closed his eyes. It might have been for just a second, but even that was a second too much. He was older than that, completely past that. And Oriya was no one. 

“Fei?” 

Mari’s voice made him open his eyes. She hadn’t dared touch him even though she was crouching next to him, and that shamed him. “Hello.”

She smiled. “Hello.”

She smelled like herbs and spices. Had she been cooking or perhaps shopping? He ruffled her hair and she giggled. When he slid his hand down the side of her neck she stopped. Mari closed her eyes then and, softly sighing, tilted her neck for him. He pulled her close and kissed her. She still tasted like tea, but she had learnt how to kiss back. 

That too was familiar. The excitement after a successful job. Someone’s death, anyone’s death nothing but proof he was alive. The fact that for a second he had been arbiter of life and death a powerful reminder of a body’s fragility, causing a visceral reaction. Mari’s kiss bringing back to the surface the desire that he’d suppressed when he made his report. 

He stood up, keeping her close to him. “Mari,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I want you. Now.”

Mari shivered. Her breasts rubbed against his chest when she moved and he slid his hand between them, touching her over her kimono. She flushed. “I have work.”

“Now.”

She looked around. He reached her left breast and pressed his palm against it. He could feel her hardening nipple even beneath the fabric. “Fei, I have work to do,” she protested, but her blush had spread to her neck. She didn’t move away from him, or push his hand away like she did other times. 

He nuzzled her neck, and then licked her earlobe. “Please?”

She shuddered. “Yes,” she whispered so softly he wondered if he was coercing her. A second later he was pulling her to his room. She didn’t protest any more.

And, unlike Takaba, she proved to be a virgin, clumsy and awkward in sex as she had been when he first kissed her. When he parted her legs for the first time, she clung to him, shuddering and asking to be kissed. She cried out when he took her, and lied to him that she was in no pain despite her tears. For the first time since he’d touched her, she smelled of the sea. 

In all things, she was eager to learn, and even more eager to please. Unlike Takaba.


	16. Chapter 16

The old hag looked at Oriya appraisingly. “I swear, you’re getting more and more like your mother every day.”

“In what sense?”

She grinned and smoothed down his haori. “You have to ask, wretched child?”

He snorted. 

She took out a small box from the folds of her obi. “The Master wants you to have this.”

Oriya didn’t take it. “You can return it. I don’t want anything of his.”

“It was your Mother’s.” When she realised that Oriya still wouldn’t take it, she put it down on the floor between them. “To give to your bride.”

“What bride?” He snorted. “I have my pet now.”

She hit him with her fan. It actually hurt that time. “Why do you insist on lying? Didn’t you introduce him as your new security guard? And everyone knows he is going out with that servant girl, and that he’s never been in your room for more than ten minutes.” She suddenly smirked. “And if you did manage to finish your business in less than ten minutes, then you’d be no Mibu man.”

“Perhaps it’s like…” His feelings for Muraki. His feelings for Ukyou. His lack of feelings for anyone else. “Take it back, please.”

“I can’t.” 

Oriya picked up a box. He took out the fox mask from there and held it in front of his face. “But we foxes mate for life. How can you ask me to get a bride when I have not found my destined one?”

She hit him again with her fan, sharply. “Don’t joke with that thing. It’s a powerful object.”

Oriya snorted. The mask’s power came from the House, and the House wouldn’t hurt him. He put the mask on properly and then took out the box with the cosmetics Ukyou forgot whenever she visited. The old hag gasped, but she didn’t stop him, not even when he painted a red line across the forehead of the mask, like a crack. “Tell this to Father.”  
“That you’ve finally gone mad?” She grasped the mask and took it out. She started rubbing it clean furiously, using the edge of her sleeve. “The Master knows you lied to him and he’s willing to forgive you.”

“He should be asking for my forgiveness.” When she lifted her hand to strike him, he stopped her. “Or at least my acceptance,” he said quietly. 

“A child cannot ask such things for his father.”

“And a father cannot ask the things he asks of me.” Oriya shook his head. “Why do you try to reconcile us?”

“Because I’m his faithful servant.”

“What crap.”

She hit him again. “He also sends you this.” She took out a letter. “It’s work,” so you must read it, her expression said better than her words. She studied him and suddenly smiled softly. She pushed his hair away from his face. “Right now, you look even more like your mother.” She picked up the lipstick Oriya had used, uncapped it and dabbed his mouth. Then she rubbed the paint across his lips, and his cheeks. “There, now you can face the world.” 

He checked himself in the mirror. He couldn’t spot the lipstick, but he was definitely blushing. “I… I’d better be going.”

She smiled. “Yes, don’t make the customers wait.”

As if.


	17. Chapter 17

Feilong put the book down. This story about people vanishing, even if the cause was a demon, was just too much for him. Someone knocked on the door and he quickly hid it beneath the covers. He’d rather not have anyone see that he could read Japanese. Pretending he didn’t speak the language well made people more open around him. 

Nishimura came in a second later. “The Young Master wants to see you. Follow me.”

“Does he have a job for me?” he asked once they were in the car. It was about time. The last one had been three days ago, and even though he knew how infrequent these things were, he still wanted to repay his debt as quickly as possible and move on. Back in Hong Kong he’d have to do at least ten or fifteen jobs before being clear of his debt, but he had no idea if the prices were similar in Japan.

Nishimura nodded. “But he said it’s a very special job, so it’s okay if you don’t accept it.”

“Right.”

Nishimura glanced at him. “If the Young Master says that, then it must be a really difficult job. No one will blame you if you don’t do it.”

“It’s not that.” He looked outside. “Have you had any news?”

“About your family? No, sorry.”

He closed his eyes tightly for a second. Tao was all he had; he would not give him up. He wondered if Asami had felt the same when he’d taken Takaba from him. He wished Asami had felt this pain; it would have served him right. He smiled slowly. When this was over, he’d take Takaba again and then film as he slowly killed him. He’d feed Takaba his intestines and then send his heart to Asami, together with the DVD. 

Nishimura cleared his throat. “We’re here,” he said looking queasy. 

He studied the building. Definitely a hotel, and considering what Oriya did, he suspected it was most likely a love hotel, though perhaps not one of the really seedy, or garish ones. “You don’t like these places?” he smirked.

“I don’t like the way you smile,” Nishimura muttered quickly, underestimating both his hearing and his understanding of the language. 

Just for that Feilong smiled at him. Nishimura looked like he would throw up. “So, where is the Young Master?”

Nishimura handed him a card key with the numbers 302 and drove him to the entrance. “No one will see you if you come and go from here. I’ll come pick you up if you decide not to take this job.”

Feilong nodded. “Fine.” As if he could really say no. 

The building looked like nothing like a love hotel from the inside. The corridors were very clean, very non-descript, like any corridor in any hotel. There was the obligatory, annoying muzak in the elevators, and the faint smell of someone’s perfume lingering. So, he opened the door to the room about to make a joke, something about respectability and high class, perhaps. And then he gaped for a second, and then shut his mouth. 

There was the small area reserved for shoes, but on the wall there was a machine selling everything from condoms to toys. The room itself was nothing like a hotel room. Instead, it was furnished like a classroom. There was a blackboard at the back, right next to a half-open door, a teacher’s desk on a raised platform, and two smaller, lower desks in front of it. The handcuffs on the desk were slightly more disturbing, but the ones hanging in front of the blackboard truly frightened him. “Oriya,” he shouted. “I’m …” No, he wouldn’t say no. Not immediately. “What am I supposed to do here?”

Oriya came out a second later carrying two boxes. “Do your work?”

“Here?” He gestured around. 

“Yes.” Oriya sat on top of one of the low desks and opened the boxes. He looked at Feilong for a moment, then closed one of the two, and started removing the wrapping paper from the second box. He then took out a white blouse with a blue tie. Feilong suspected what would come next, and he was right. The skirt was deep blue, and very short. 

“For me?” He smirked. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I had to,” Oriya grinned. 

Feilong shook his head as he sat next to Oriya. “Why? I don’t have to … cosplay to do my job.”

“But you have to make it look like a heart attack.” Oriya handed him the blouse. “And what better way than to actually cause him a heart attack?”

He raised the blouse up. The fabric looked a bit too sheer. “That’s just stupid.”

Oriya shook his head. “I know him. He has a schoolgirl fetish, but what really gets him going is men in girls’ clothes. Young men.” He reached out and tugged a strand of Fei’s hair. “Men in long hair.”

Fei snorted. He reached out as well and touched Oriya’s hair, surprised when Oriya allowed it. “Speaking from experience?”

“Maybe?” He smiled. “Please?”

“I could make it look like a heart attack,” Feilong said, smirking just because it seemed to make Oriya’s expression more pleading. 

“Please?”

Feilong sighed, smiling. The sooner he got rid of Oriya, the sooner he could get rid of the target in a way that wouldn’t involve cosplay. However…. “Alright,” he smiled. Before Oriya could jump down and disappear, he put his hand in front of him and stopped him. “But you have to wear the other one.”

“What?” Oriya stared at him in shock. “What?”

“Oriya, whoever the target is, he has the hots for you, not just any man with long hair in a school girl’s outfit.”

“No. He likes a type, not me in particular.”

“No. It’s you he wants, but you don’t want to do this, so you’re using me as a substitute.” Oriya looked truly horrified, so he grinned. “And I’ll do it, fine, it’s my job, but, I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“I won’t be staying enough for that pig to see me here,” Oriya huffed. 

“Of course. Just,” he smiled sweetly and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Please?”

“You work for me,” Oriya reminded him quietly. 

“But you like to please. And you know that in the end, we will be allies, not employer and employee. You don’t want to make me unhappy. So you’re thinking about it.” And even if he hadn’t, Feilong would insist until Oriya believed he had. 

Oriya pushed his hand away and jumped down from the desk. “Fine, but, I have to warn you. I look dreadful in something like that. Why do you think I wanted you for this?” he mumbled as he grabbed the other box and went back to the other room. 

Feilong laughed as quietly as he could. Then he went back to undressing himself. “Of all the things I’ve done, this is the stupidest.” Not that he’d never had to seduce men before he could get close enough to kill them, but he’d never had to do that in a short plaid, blue skirt. Or a blouse with a ribbon tied in a bow. Or, he reached inside the box, and groaned. “White, thigh-high socks?” Bloody perverts. 

He leaned against the desk and started wearing the stupid things, telling himself that he was not terrified his nails would tear the delicate fabric. All that because Oriya refused to accept that yet another balding, middle-aged man (he’d bet money on that) wanted to fuck him. Idiot. Feilong knew what would happen. The pervert would come in, first get excited, if that really was his fantasy, and then get disappointed, because his fantasy did not include his favourite object. At that point, Feilong would get him out of his misery, and then he would go back. 

“And lace panties? What the fuck?” He sighed as he removed his briefs and hoped that Oriya would not open the door at precisely that moment. It was bad enough to be caught wearing nothing but socks, but to be caught putting on this flimsy, see-through thing was probably worse. At least there was no mirror in the round. That too would have been embarrassing. Just as embarrassing as admitting that he had noticed how the lace on the socks matched the lace on the panties and that it had felt quite pleasant to slide them on. As embarrassing as admitting that he was curious to see what he looked like wearing nothing but these things. His cock was beginning to stir; the arabesque patterns on the lace shifting as his cock too moved. 

“Not that I care,” he muttered. And his decision to wear the blouse first had nothing to do with the fact that he thought that it would probably look sexier like that. Nothing at all. After all, he’d wear the skirt next, wouldn’t he? 

The door to the other room opened just as he was smoothing the skirt over his thighs. It was sudden enough to frighten his erection down, but then Oriya came out and Feilong decided that hiding behind the desk was more efficient than thinking cool, or calming thoughts. In a way, Oriya had been right; the outfit did not fit him. He was clearly a guy dressing up in a girl’s outfit, whereas Feilong didn’t want to admit to even himself that he probably looked like more like a professional cross-dresser. Yan used to make fun of his girlish looks when he was drunk, the bastard. In that respect, it made more sense to dress Feilong up. 

But, Oriya’s hair was completely dishevelled, the red ribbon in the middle of his blouse had become untied, its two ends pointing towards a small bellybutton, and when he sat down next to Feilong, his skin shone between the white of his socks and the deep red of his skirt. 

“I look stupid,” Oriya grumbled. 

“He so wants to fuck you,” Feilong said at the same time. 

Oriya snorted. “There’s a mirror in the bedroom. You obviously haven’t looked at yourself in one lately.”

Feilong was grateful for the desk in front of him. Oriya stared at him, no, he studied him, and Feilong felt like he was being appraised and judged and desired at the same time. He liked it. 

“I know beauty when I see it,” Oriya said matter-of-factly. “And I know him. You’re exactly his type.”

He snorted and tried to look away from the space where the skirt fell between Oriya’s thighs. His skin looked so bloody smooth above the lace. He wanted to…

“Hello,” someone said from the entrance. “I….” The man – another balding, middle-aged idiot, as he had expected, but one who kept himself in shape and obviously visited a gym three times a week – took a step forward and then stopped. “The Young Master himself?” 

Oriya nodded, smiling like one of his girls. “It’s Sensei’s birthday, isn’t it?”

The pig smiled, still speechless. He finally seemed to have noticed Feilong, and Feilong smiled, trying to hide his disgust. The bloody pervert started drooling the more he looked at him. “For me?” he managed to say after wiping his mouth and his forehead.

“Of course.” Oriya gestured for Feilong to come closer. “Father said I was to give you a special treat, so I invited a friend.”

The pig swallowed and untied his tie. “Your Father is a … wise man.”

Feilong turned his back to the pig and approached Oriya. “Now what?” he mouthed. 

Oriya motioned Feilong to come closer. “Play along,” he said just as quietly, and probably certain that the pig couldn’t see him. He looked furious. 

Feilong stood in front of Oriya. “Sorry,” he whispered. “This wasn’t your job.” 

“So, do you have something planned for me?” the pig said, “Or is it up to me?”

Oriya tilted his head so he could face the pig again. “Leave everything to me,” he said and then uncrossed his legs. Feilong glanced down, looking for that flash of white. Ashamed, he looked up. Oriya was still staring at the pig with a sweet, almost adoring expression. Then he felt pulled; Oriya had grabbed the end of the ribbon and Feilong followed. “Play along,” he whispered against Feilong’s mouth.

Feilong wanted to nod, but then Oriya kissed him. At the first touch of lips, Feilong opened his mouth, the memory of that strange, first kiss suddenly overwhelming. Would Oriya taste as sweet this time? He needed to know, and Oriya didn’t mind, so he continued chasing the flavour he remembered. He heard the pig sit down heavily but he didn’t care, because there it was, that deep, dark sweetness. He felt Oriya’s hand slide up his thigh, his fingers indecisive when it came to the lace, teasing along the edge of the underwear. If he wasn’t so busy tangling his hands in Oriya’s hair, he might have reciprocated. But he could try something different. “Play along,” he whispered when they broke for air, and felt Oriya smile at him before they kissed again. 

He pulled himself up, pushed Oriya slightly back, and climbed on Oriya’s lap. At the loud gasp he heard, he remembered the pig. Oriya did too; he lowered himself on the desk in such a way that the pig had a great view. Feilong too pushed his hair back, sacrificing any privacy they might have had otherwise. But since they were giving a show, and he felt obliged to perform, he also felt justified in reaching between them. In fact, he felt obligated to push the blouse up and reveal Oriya’s chest. His breast was nothing like Takaba’s, and, of course, nothing like Mari’s, but his nipple was hardening rapidly beneath his hand, just like theirs had. If he didn’t prefer kissing Oriya, he’d bite it. And Oriya’s hands had finally lost their hesitancy; hot, burning, they cupped his ass. 

There was a loud thud, and then a series of short, breathless moans. When they didn’t stop, Feilong lifted his head. “Well, what do you know? He’s really having a heart attack.” He snorted, surprised. 

“Yes, amazing, isn’t it?” Oriya sat up, leaning on his elbows. 

The pig was sweating, trying to breathe and crawl towards his briefcase at the same time. Feilong studied him. “How long will this last?”

“Don’t know. It varies from person to person.” Oriya pushed Feilong away and then hopped down. “Do you think he might have his pills in his briefcase?”

The pig nodded. “Please. In… the…”

Oriya opened it. “Ah, yes. Let’s see. Pens. Cards. An agenda. How old-fashioned.”

The pig stopped struggling. Feilong shook his head. “My way is quicker and more humane.” He jumped down and took the pig’s pulse. “He’s still alive.”

Oriya glared at him. “So? He won’t be for long.”

“I’m just saying. My way is more efficient.”

“I know.” He looked tired for a second. “But this was how it was supposed to be done.” He found the pills, and took one out. “Does he have a pulse?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll now call for an ambulance. Since you touched him, I’d suggest you stayed, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t.”

“And then? What will you tell them?”

“The truth.” Oriya smiled. “That my father asked me to arrange a present for Sensei, and what better present than to give him what he always wanted? Only he couldn’t take it. Poor man.”

Feilong snorted. “And they’ll believe that?”

“They know me. And they know my father.” Oriya was angry for a second. “Oh, they’ll believe me.”

Feilong sat on the floor. “This I’ll have to see.”


	18. Chapter 18

‘In my Father’s house there are many mansions,’ was what Muraki had said when he visited their house in Sanbi. As if they had many houses – or mansions. Oriya thought it a modest house, and he liked to visit it, especially when his father was not there. Something that happened less often with every passing year. 

When was the last time he’d been there? And when was the time he had enjoyed himself the most there? It must have been when he’d gone there together with Muraki. The trip he had planned with the totally ignoble and selfish aim of seducing him. By the time they’d actually visited the house, Muraki had already fallen in love with Ukyou and was trying to heal from Saki’s attack. Both things made his plans futile. Another person, perhaps, might have taken advantage of Muraki’s vulnerable condition; Oriya offered him space to recover. 

He started to fill the tub. By the time he finished cleaning himself, the tub would be full and, oh, how he needed to soak and rest and think. So many years ago, he’d come here to seduce his best friend. Now he was coming to sort out his feelings. Had Fei been trying to seduce him? 

He’d been so angry, oh, so angry when Fei delayed him and that bastard saw him in that stupid uniform. But he’d also been shocked; how could he let himself … no, why had he let himself be convinced into wearing that stupid thing in the first place? Oriya still didn’t know why he had agreed to that. His plan was simple: get Fei to dress as a schoolgirl and then give him the pills that would dispose of the bastard, if the excitement of seeing Fei like that didn’t kill him first. Instead, he let himself be distracted, and lingered and …

And what was the deal with those kisses? And the touching. And the spreading his legs for Fei to nestle between them. And the falling back, and letting Fei take control. What did these mean? When it all happened, all Oriya could think was that giving that rotten pervert a show would probably kill him faster than any pill – exactly as had happened. That was all it was; a show. But he didn’t plan it all.

And Fei… When Fei crawled on top of him, Oriya could feel his erection. For Fei, at least for a while, perhaps for a while, it wasn’t just a show. It was about getting satisfaction, with Fei’s cock insistently rubbing against his inner thigh, and his hand equally hot and heavy on Oriya’s chest. And Oriya didn’t know if he would stop it or not if it had to continue.

He poured some water over his hair, and then some shampoo in his hands. It was white and, for a second, he stared at it. It was a bit like semen, and he’d never realised that. How disgusting. That made him remember the comment Fei had made about the pig wanting to fuck him. Was that referring only to the pig? And if Fei wanted to fuck him, was it because he was … what? Male? His employer? 

Growing up in a brothel had shown him how pathetic and miserable lust was. A driving force powerful enough to make grown men crawl and act like children. But once lust was satisfied, the customers went back to their lives, and the women counted their money. Relationships didn’t grow, let alone last in such an environment, under such conditions. And perhaps because he was surrounded by sex, and sex was so natural and easy, it was the only thing he’d never wanted. No, what he’d wanted was a relationship. A relationship with either one of his best friends. Who’d moved on, and left him.

He slid in the tub, pushed his hair back and closed his eyes. His hands ended on his thighs, and from there it was easy for his hands to move, to gently stroke himself. It happened almost without his noticing, and it was pleasant. This was the kind of lust he could give in to: controlled, restricted, without emotional attachments. The only lust he would allow. 

So what if Fei wanted him? He would not sacrifice his pride to satisfy another man’s stupid lust. He would not undermine his authority by sleeping with one of his employees. Which he might have done, perhaps, if only he’d wanted Fei back. But he didn’t. 

His strokes became slower, until they stopped. The water was warm, and his limbs were heavy. When he woke up, the water had turned cold and he felt refreshed.


	19. Chapter 19

Feilong sat in the room with the lights off. When Mari came in, he grabbed her. She struggled for a while, but then she gave up. Had she recognised him? Or had just given up to someone bigger and stronger than her? “Mari,” he whispered and he felt her relax. She’d just surrendered, then. He took his hand away from her mouth.

“Yes?” She sounded a little scared, still breathless from her brief fight. 

“For me?” He asked her as he made her sit. Then he gave her a school girl’s uniform, identical to everything but the size with the one he’d worn.

“What is this? Clothes? Fei, let me turn the light on, I can’t see anything.”

He turned on the small lamp by their bed. The bulb was small enough for the light to be unobtrusive, but it was still harsh and electric. Before coming here, he would only have minded the absence of brilliance that he had preferred back in Hong Kong. Now, he missed the trembling light of candles. 

Mari blinked. She studied the uniform carefully and then she raised her eyes, still fearful. “Is this place changing you? Are you becoming like our customers?”

He smiled. “For me? Please?”

She blushed deeply. Then she looked down as she stood up. She took her clothes off slowly, perhaps unwittingly giving him a show. But a show it was, with her pale, smooth skin unhurriedly exposed. Her breasts were really small, but firm, and her plain, cotton panties perhaps what a true school girl would wear. When she put on her uniform, she looked frighteningly young. 

“Mari. Years?” He traced the kanji in the air.

“Nineteen.”

Almost ten years younger than him. Almost a child. She didn’t look fuckable when he thought that; she only looked naïve and innocent and worthy of protection. She didn’t even remind him of Takaba anymore. 

She twirled around. “Well?”

He smiled and took hold of her hands. He’d already fucked her; it was too late to regret taking her innocence or her youth. “Dance?” he asked as he settled her on his lap. Mari stared at him, so he put his hands on her waist and gently swayed her. 

She started moving on her own, but just as gently. He pictured Oriya dancing on his lap and bit back laughter. No way. Mari fit so well against him, light enough and soft enough and just exactly pliant. Perhaps more pliant than he really liked. Was it because Takaba had resisted him so much that he had begun liking it? 

Mari wound her fingers in his hair and then she kissed him. Feilong closed his eyes and let her do as she wanted. How far would she go? Her dance was slowly changing, but she was still hesitant. 

In the end, he guided himself inside her. She still cried a little when he did, but her wetness told another story. In the half-light, biting her lips and with her eyes tightly closed, in her silly schoolgirl clothes, moving as he thrust inside her, she looked pretty. Even then, she did not look fuckable. 

He closed his eyes and thought of Takaba. But, for a second then, as he came, he pictured Oriya.


	20. Chapter 20

Oriya looked up from his book, finally unable to concentrate. “Fei, don’t you have anything to do?”

Fei grinned. “No. At least not during the day. Unless you have a job for me?”

That last phrase was said in a mocking tone, and with Fei’s grin changing into a smirk, as if it was Oriya’s fault that Fei had been stalking him for the past two days. “No, I don’t,” he said, hoping he sounded bored and not apologetic. 

Fei snorted and then, instead of going back to the book he was ostensibly reading, continued staring at him. 

“Fei, if there’s something you want to tell me, you can say it now.”

“No, no, there’s nothing.” Fei kept smirking, but his tone was bitter. “As if…,” he started and stopped almost immediately. 

“As soon as I have news,” Oriya started, but Fei shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies mean nothing to me.” 

Oriya closed his book. He sat up straight. Pride be damned. “I don’t have to put up with your behaviour.”

Fei sat up as well, consciously or unconsciously mirroring his stance. “Yes? And what will you do about it?”

Yes, there was that. He smirked, stood up and went to his room. Fei followed him, as he expected him to do. He even closed the door, exactly as Oriya had thought. 

“Will you sell me to the highest bidder, like Asami had done? Or maybe put me to a different kind of work?” Fei snorted. “You know I won’t let you.”

He opened one of the boxes on his desk, took out his cheque book and the passport and threw both at Fei. “Write down whatever amount you think will be enough to get you back to Hong Kong, and get out of here.”

Fei stopped smirking. 

“When you regain control of Baishe you can repay me. It doesn’t have to be money; send me a nice gift and I’ll be satisfied.”

Fei kept staring. “Why?” he said slowly. 

“Because you are a nuisance.” 

“I still owe you…”

Oriya didn’t let him finish. “Yes, yes, I know. Make it a really expensive gift, then.”

“I could decide not to send you anything.”

“Whatever.” 

Fei knelt down, finally picking up the passport. “No one could tell this is a fake,” he said after studying it.

“It’s not.” He’d spent enough money making sure of that. “Anything is possible, if you know the right people,” like he did. 

“I…” Fei stared up at him. 

“Fei,” Oriya sighed. “Just go.”

Fei narrowed his eyes. “It’s because I’m following you around. Your staff thinks I’m your bodyguard, and you don’t want them to think you’re weak. But, you also know that I’m not following you around because I think you’re weak.” He sat up slowly. “I’m following you because you’ve been avoiding me since you last kissed me.” He took a step forward. “I’m following you because I want you, and you know it.” He took another step towards Oriya. “Are you scared of me, or of yourself?”

What bullshit. “I’m scared of nothing. I’ve been avoiding you because I have work to do – something you obviously don’t understand. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want you.” He smirked. “If I wanted you, do you think I would have done nothing?”

Fei smirked again. “That’s not what I have heard.” He finally stood in front of Oriya. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said in a low voice, more threatening than anything else. “You said it yourself; I’ll never take Baishe back alone, and you promised to help me. I’ll stay here, because we’re both men of our word.” He suddenly pressed Oriya against his desk. “And because I want you.”

Oriya pushed him back and then kicked him to the ground. “You insolent bastard.” He kicked Fei again. “If you want to stay, you’ll follow my rules. Understood?”

Fei rolled away, and pulled himself to a crouching position. “You protest too much,” he laughed.

When Oriya aimed another kick at his head, Fei sprang up, grabbed his ankle and made him fall down. Then Fei fell on top of him, trying to pin him down. Fei was quick but heavy, and even though Oriya blocked his attacks, he couldn’t dislodge him. Fei was grinning, happy to be on top, even though he couldn’t hold him completely down. And Oriya was becoming horrified; the more he fought Fei, trying to throw him away from him, the more Fei squirmed, and the more he squirmed, the more Oriya felt Fei’s erection nudging him, a live, warm, insistent thing. It was disgusting and it made him feel dirty and… it had been ages since he’d let a lover into his bed, and no woman had ever dared climb on top of him and try to take control and… He could not give in. “Damn it,” he snarled and, instead of blocking Fei, he grabbed his wrists, thrust upwards and rolled them both over. Fei was now beneath him and that was even more disturbingly familiar and arousing. 

Fei looked up at him viciously, but his cock was still erect, fully erect now, demanding and making a mockery of Fei’s anger. A second later Fei’s vicious expression changed into one of triumph. “You want me,” he whispered as he leaned upwards, mouth half-open and asking for a kiss. He kept his legs wrapped around Oriya’s – the bastard. 

“You’re being stupid.” If he released Fei’s hands, who knew what Fei would do next, and with Fei still clinging on to him, he couldn’t kick him. “If you let go, I’ll…”

“No,” Fei murmured. Immediately after, his tongue slipped inside Oriya’s mouth, warm and wet and strong and searching. Almost as strong and warm as Fei’s erection. 

“Damn it, stop humping me,” is what he tried to say, but it came out as an inarticulate moan, sounds licked away and melting against that warm intruder, his protest similar to an encouragement. 

Fei’s answer was just as inarticulate, but definite: a long moan of drawn-out, rising pleasure. His cock finally found Oriya’s and, even through layers of fabric, managed to convey impatience, and persistence. Fei’s moan broke into a hundred gasps. It made him dizzy.

If he released Fei, then he could push him away, or maybe break away from Fei’s hold. One or the other would work. When he released Fei, Fei grabbed his waist with one hand, and the back of his head with the other, bringing their bodies even closer, leaving Oriya’s hands free. He could… he could deny the heat and blood that filled his own cock, answering Fei’s need. He could deny that he hadn’t been kissed like that in ages. He could deny that Fei knew how to kiss, and that his kisses tasted like a strange, slightly sweet, slightly spiced fruit. But, he couldn’t deny that, regardless of why, or how, Fei – in his need, in his kisses - had forgotten that they had been fighting. Fei had forgotten that he was an assassin, a Triad leader, a dangerous man. Fei had forgotten that Oriya could fight back, and that he too was dangerous. Fei’s lust had reduced him to a creature driven by his urges, defined by his needs and his desires. 

Oriya couldn’t deny that, regardless of why or how, he was the one to cause this lust, or need, or desire. More than a vague sense of taking responsibility, he felt flattered. And he enjoyed that almost as much as the friction between them. Instead of pushing Fei away, he leaned into him, petting his hair, his neck, his face, his arms. 

And, after Fei came, he even allowed Fei to stroke him to completion.


	21. Chapter 21

Feilong stretched and sniffed. The room reeked of sex and sweat, he stank, and he really needed a shower. But he didn’t care; not when Oriya studied him through half-lidded eyes, utterly dishevelled and still utterly fuckable. He smiled. He’d be ready for round two in a few minutes. “You do want me,” he said.

Oriya glared at him. “I don’t,” he answered in a half-bored, half-resigned tone.

“Yes, you do.”

Instead of answering, Oriya threw him a book. Feilong raised his arm to deflect it and that was all the time it took Oriya to stand, cross the room, and kick him on the head. “I don’t, idiot.”

“Why?” He glared at Oriya, but since Oriya pulled back immediately, he decided not to attack. “You…”

“I …” Oriya grinned. “I’m a man, and you’re a very sexy, young man offering sex. What did you expect me to do? Protect my virtue?” He snorted. “I’d be an idiot if I denied you.”

“But you did, at first. Then you changed your mind. Therefore, you want me.”

“You’re also my employee. I can’t have sex with you.” He smiled. “But, since you insisted, well… I wouldn’t turn away any of my women if they wanted to sleep with me.”

Feilong took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. He turned around and walked out of Oriya’s room. The bastard, equating him, Feilong of the Liu Family, leader of the Baishe, with one of his women. He took a few steps without paying attention where he was going. But Oriya had enjoyed it in the end; he’d even let Feilong stroke him and, gods, his cock was beautiful and hot and Feilong had rarely wanted to suck someone off so much. That was the next thing he’d do, if he had the chance. 

“Ooh.” Mari crashed into him, or perhaps he into her. “Fei.” She grimaced, sniffing him. “You smell.” She lifted his hand and she let out a small cry. “You have bruises all over your arm.” She lifted his sleeve higher and studied each mark. “What happened? Fei.”

He shook his head. 

“Fei.” She sounded sad and she looked resigned. Mari rubbed slightly each bruise she saw. “Let me help you. What happened?”

“Nothing. The Young Master, me,” he made a couple of gestures as if they had been fighting.

Mari cried out again. “Why?” Her lips trembled. “Fei,” she said softly, and then hugged him. A second later she released him. “I’m going to have a talk with the Young Master,” she said, handing him the load of covers she was carrying. 

“No,” he started, but she shook her head and then ran away from him. It was tempting to follow her and hear Oriya’s excuse, but the covers needed to be washed, and he needed a shower. He’d rather get clean.

He was washing his hair when he remembered that none of the women had ever claimed to have slept with Oriya, even though many said that they had tried to seduce him. And, as he replayed their encounter, he realised that there was a moment when Oriya could have hurt him. If he had been in Oriya’s place, being kissed and touched against his will, he would have killed his assailant the moment his hands were free. Oriya had caressed him instead. 

“He wants me,” he whispered. “He just can’t admit it.”


	22. Chapter 22

Someone knocked once. Then twice. 

“Not now,” Oriya shouted, and winced. This story with Fei had triggered a migraine, and it felt like everything took twice as long to accomplish, from brushing his hair to wearing his clothes. The only thing he was certain he’d do without any problems was his playing the samisen. 

Whoever it was outside knocked again.

“Damn it, not now.” He was still struggling with his obi; it trailed on the floor like a snake’s old skin, and he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. 

The door opened. Fei looked inside, first with a blank expression and then slowly grinning as he stared at the state Oriya was in. “Need some help?”

“No.”

“Really?” He closed the door behind him and sat down cross-legged. 

“Really.” Oriya pulled together the edges of his undergarment with his hand. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Fei leered. “Let me help you,” he said as he moved forward. 

“Fei.” Oriya wondered if he sounded as stern as he intended, because Fei didn’t stop. He was losing it. 

Fei picked up his kimono and smoothed it with his hands. “I just want to help.” Fei smiled. “I swear. Come on, let me do this for you.” 

“Alright,” he said half-heartedly and raised his arms. 

Fei moved behind him, helped him wear the damned thing and then grabbed his hands and held them. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, breath hot and teasing.

His migraine made him reluctant to react. “I have work to do.”

Fei pushed his hair aside and licked his earlobe. “I don’t care.”

Why on earth did he allow this? “The customers.”

“Fuck them.” Fei nipped him. His tongue was immediately there again, soothing. 

Was it the migraine? Old age? Why did he let this continue? “I have to get ready for them.”

Fei nuzzled him. His hair was so soft. Oriya tilted his head further away from Fei, felt Fei smile against his skin, his hold slightly less strong and then he head butted him. “I said I have work to do.” The blow made Fei release him, and so he struck him with his elbow. Then came the obligatory kick in the head. “Insolent animal.”

Fei cradled his head, but still managed a smile. “Wouldn’t you rather play with me than the stupid pigs that pay for your company?”

“You said it. They pay. You don’t.” Oriya kicked him again. “I pay you. And I don’t pay you to pester me; I pay you to keep the customers in their place.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And if you have nothing to do, I suggest you think of how best you can make yourself useful around here, if you want me to keep you in my employment.”

Fei sat up slowly, still grinning. “It turns me on when you act all indignant,” he said in a low, sex-rough voice. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Counting to ten wouln’t help him calm down, not with Fei staring like this. “Damn it, stop leering and get out of here. I really need to get ready for tonight before the Old Hag drags me out to the customers like this.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Fei murmured, raising his hand and trying to touch his chest. His eyes were dark. “I want to be the only one to see you like this.”

Oriya pushed his hand away. “Idiot.” He stood up, and smoothed the kimono over his body. “Why can’t you get it through your obviously pretty but thick skull that I’m not interested in you?”

“Because,” Fei said in the same low tone, “if you didn’t want me, you wouldn’t have let me touch you in the first place.”

“Perhaps I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still useful, after all, and I like making a profit out of my investments.” 

Fei snorted. He stood up slowly. “Anyway, I came to tell you. Mari suspects something.”

He froze. “What?”

“I don’t know what. But she saw these.” Fei rolled his sleeve up and showed Oriya the bruises on his left arm. “And these.” He grinned. “Next time, can you not hit me so hard? I told her we were fighting, but I’m not sure if she believed me.” He rubbed the side of his head, where Oriya had hit him. “And if this continues, I’ll run out of excuses.”

“Then don’t cause a reason for excuses.” He picked up his obi from the floor and started wrapping it around his body. “It’s not like I want to hit you, but if…” 

Fei grabbed one end of the obi and tugged it slightly. When Oriya looked at him, he stopped smiling. “I don’t want to lie to her.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What? You want me to lie?” He smirked.

“I want you to stop bothering me and keep making her happy. How can you be so selfish?” He pulled hard at the obi, forcing Fei to let it go. “You shouldn’t play with people’s emotions.”

Fei frowned. He opened his mouth, but there was a knock on the door. He rolled down his sleeves as the door opened. 

“Young Master? Oh, your clothes. Your hair. Young Master is still not ready.” Yukiko shook her head. “It seems I came just on time,” she smiled. 

Fei snorted. He turned facing away from her. ‘We’re not finished,’ he mouthed. Then he bowed and left. 

Oriya let the obi fall down. “I have a migraine,” he pouted for a second. “Must I really face them?”

Yukiko smiled, and nodded. 

“Just kidding.”


	23. Chapter 23

Feilong grabbed Mari the minute she walked into the room. She didn’t struggle this time, not even when he pushed her to bed, face down. “You should have fought me,” he whispered as he climbed on top of her. 

“I knew it was you,” she whispered back.

“How?” He untied the obijime and used it to tie her hands together, a snake of dark material twisting around her pale arms. It looked beautiful. 

“I saw you come in.” Mari whimpered. “You’re hurting me.”

He loosened the cord slightly. “Better?”

She nodded. “You really have changed.” She sounded sad, even as she spread her legs for him, as she rubbed her body against him while Feilong pushed up her kimono. “Why? What’s wrong? Why don’t you let me hel… “ He tore her panties. “No, Fei, no.” Her voice was still low, but she was scared, her body suddenly a lot tenser than before. “No, please.”

He ignored her, spat once more and pushed his finger inside her. 

“Not there. Fei. Please.” 

Of course she was a virgin in this too, how could he have thought otherwise? “Shhh.”

“It hurts, Fei,” she moaned. “Please, don’t.”

“Want,” he said. It was hard to remember he didn’t know Japanese with her, when she was trembling so deliciously beneath him and he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how sexy, how wonderful she made him feel. 

“Me no want,” she said in a broken voice. “Please, why can’t you do it normally?”

That was no good, if she could still speak in complete sentences. He grabbed the bottle of lube with his free hand and poured some over his fingers and her bottom. She jumped. 

“Cold,” Mari complained. 

“Hush.” He kissed her nape as he pushed in another finger slowly. Hotter than Takaba, tighter than Takaba, he didn’t want to hurt her. If he turned the light on and made her look at him, would she look at him with the same shocked, hurt expression as Takaba? But he’d caused her no real pain, and he was careful not to scare her. “Beautiful,” he told her, kissing her again. That seemed to make her relax. 

More lube. More fingers. More stretching. More soft moans and more trembling. She was really beautiful like this. If her hair was longer, he’d pet it, and tell her it would all be okay, that she would like it, he’d make sure of that. He rubbed her shoulder instead, and kept kissing her. 

Mari tensed again when he started sliding inside her. “Please, no, it hurts, please, no, no, no, no.” 

She really was like Takaba in that respect. Always complaining and saying ‘no’, yet unashamedly exciting him with her beauty, her body opening for him without protests, belying his words. “Tease,” he said between two kisses. “You like this,” he said as he lifted her up and started thrusting in earnest.

Mari pressed her head against the pillow. “No, no,” she kept moaning, her voice muffled, more pathetic for that. 

Oriya would never moan like this. He could imagine him biting his lips, or his hand, but he wouldn’t plead. Oriya might gasp, or maybe sigh, but he wouldn’t complain. He could imagine Oriya kissing him, his natural sweetness laced with tobacco and sake. Feilong licked the inside of his mouth, and closed his eyes. 

Mari still moaned beneath him whenever he pulled out, brokenly whispering ‘no’ whenever he thrust. From behind, and when he was only touching her side, or her ass, she really felt like Takaba. When he touching her breasts, though, she was just herself. 

Fucking Oriya might feel a bit like fucking Asami. “Oh, yes,” he said as the idea, and the images that refused to be fully formed, triggered his orgasm. He pushed her down as he came. “God. Fuck.” He stayed inside Mari, too exhausted to move. 

Mari finally moved. Feilong pulled away slowly, and then untied her. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her nape again. 

“It hurt,” Mari complained in a low voice once more. 

Takaba had complained about the same thing, but he always was up to it. Mari was the same. He wiped himself with the first piece of cloth he found next to him, threw it on Mari and then stood up. “Shower,” he said, putting on a robe.

As he opened the door, he glanced back. Mari had turned on her side, and was touching herself. Her body shone in the moonlight. Beautiful. If she hadn’t been so strong, he’d feel guilty for his selfishness. 

He walked to the bathroom that was for the members of staff, and then turned back. Oriya was probably also taking a shower after work. Or maybe having a bath. He wondered. He wanted. He went to Oriya’s bathroom and opened the door. The shower room was empty but there was sound coming from the next room, where the bathtub was. He crouched and listened. Oriya was singing in a very low voice, every now and then humming the melody. He listened.


	24. Chapter 24

Oriya heard the door open. Yukiko or Haruka coming to clean up, then. He wondered if he should greet them. Instead, he raised his voice a little. When they heard him singing, they would leave him alone. A few seconds later, he lowered his tone, closed his eyes, and let his head drop back.

He would have been so much happier if he didn’t have to perform for all those disgusting old men. If he didn’t have to play music for anyone. If he didn’t have anything to do with his House. His Father had sent a message congratulating him on taking care of Tomoya, and that his plans were progressing extremely well thanks to Oriya’s ingenious solution. Tomoya might have been a dirty old man, but he hadn’t wanted to be so involved in his death. 

He hugged himself. Even hearing from his Father made him feel dirty. 

The door to the room opened. Oriya opened his eyes at the noise. “Please lea…” he started saying and immediately stopped. 

“You stopped singing,” Fei said accusingly. Fei, wearing nothing but a deep, red bathrobe tied loosely at the front. Flushed, like he had been exercising. Reeking of sex. 

“Get out,” he said wearily. He didn’t want to fight. 

Fei smirked. He started untying the sash slowly. His hands looked strong and startlingly pale against the red. It was the red of fresh, arterial blood, Oriya realised suddenly, oddly appropriate for an assassin. “I watched you entertain your precious guests all night,” Fei said slowly, in a deep, red tone. He played with the ends of the sash, first wrapping the fabric around his fingers and his wrists and then unwrapping it. His robe stayed impossibly in place. “And then I went back to my room and fucked Mari in the ass because I couldn’t fuck you.” He stopped fiddling with the sash, took a step forward, climbed the stairs and put his left hand on the edge of the tub. His robe finally parted, revealing a stretch of toned, strong, muscles beneath the silkiest-looking skin. 

Oriya swallowed. For some reason, his eyes couldn’t go past the dark curls of pubic hair and the flushed, rising cock that was still half-hidden by that deep red cloth. Not just because it was more or less on eye level. 

“Do you like what you see?” Fei smirked.

Oriya looked up, past the small, tight navel, past the powerful muscles, past the star-shaped scar, past the long throat, to the beautiful, slightly curved lips.

“It’s all for you,” Fei said, thrusting forward. The fabric moved, and fell aside, and Fei’s cock was finally fully erect, suffused with blood, and painted a different kind of red. 

Oriya snorted. “If you just fucked Mari, then you should first get cleaned and then dare parade your dick in front of me.” He splashed some water on Fei’s cock, smirking when Fei pulled back for a second. 

“You are right,” Fei laughed after that moment of shock. He slid the robe off, and then stepped into the tub. 

“You’re not supposed to,” he started to say when Fei leaned forward and kissed him. Fei’s mouth was hotter than the water, and more soothing, his tongue unhurriedly exploring and tasting and licking and… Oriya hid a soft cry between Fei’s teeth and the roof of Fei’s mouth, and then pushed him away. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Fei smiled, licking his lips slowly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Fei, get out. Now.”

“No.” Fei moved. The tub was not a particularly small one, but Fei managed to push Oriya in one side and then trap him there. 

“I could break your hands and then you’d have to get out, but I don’t feel like it. Please, go.” He wasn’t exactly lying. He could do it; but he wouldn’t. Did Fei know that? 

Fei didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere.” He tried to kiss Oriya gain, but Oriya put his hands between them and stopped him. Fei frowned. “Why can’t you admit that you want me?”

“Because I don’t want you.” He took a deep breath, grabbed Fei’s hand and put it on top of his cock. “Trust me, if I wanted you, we’d both feel it.”

Fei looked at him, and then at his lowered hand. He carefully stroked Oriya. “But, I can make you hard.” He smiled a little. “I can make you come.”

“Of course you can,” Oriya sighed. “You’re sexy, beautiful and dangerous. I like that in general. But, I still don’t want you.”

Fei kept stroking him. “How come?” He frowned again. “Everyone wants me.” He snorted. “Your precious clients want me almost as much as they want you.”

“Good for you,” Oriya said bitterly. That was not something he would have wished on anyone, even when he found it convenient. And when Fei left, then he’d have to deal with them alone again. 

“Yes, right.” 

Fei’s strokes became more insistent, as if he was trying to force him to respond. If he wasn’t so tired, and at the end of a night spent drinking, it might have even worked. As it was, it only made him more relaxed. Let him try to make him come, then. Oriya leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t want you,” he whispered. 

“How come?” Fei repeated. “Why did you buy me, then?” he asked, and he sounded more than curious. He sounded a little broken. “I saw you looking at me, even behind that stupid mask, and I felt that you were interested.” Fei’s voice trembled, and lowered the more he talked. “Even on drugs, I could tell you were interested. When you kissed me…” He stopped, and his hand also stilled. “Why?”

Why did he buy Fei? Why did he kiss him in front of his father? Or why he kept claiming he didn’t want him? Which question should he answer first? Or maybe answer none? 

He felt Fei lean towards him again, and he didn’t stop him. Fei pushed his hair aside, and then ran his fingers through it. He didn’t kiss him on the lips, though, but on the curve of his neck, right above the water’s edge. His mouth still felt hot. “Why?” Fei whispered again, and started stroking him again, as slowly and leisurely as his lips brushed Oriya’s skin.

“Why?” He sighed. “I bought you because Strawberry Finch wanted you, and what he wants, I want. What I want, he wants. We always fight over things.” 

Fei gasped. A second later he resumed his exploration of Oriya’s neck. 

“I bought you because you flinched when he touched you. I thought he was being vulgar, and I didn’t want him to have you. I thought, whatever you’d done to Asami, you didn’t deserve this.”

Fei stopped again. 

Oriya pushed Fei’s hand away from his cock. He opened his eyes. “I’m too drunk to fuck, or haven’t you noticed?”

“You knew about me and Asami?” 

“No. But it was obvious that he hated you.”

Fei snorted. “Yes, you could say that. He hates me as much as I hate him.” He stood up. “If you’re so drunk, then you should go to bed.”

“I won’t let you fuck me, if that’s what you’re thinking of doing next.”

Fei narrowed his eyes. “So suspicious.”

Oriya sighed. “You can’t fuck Mari and then come to me. It’s not right.” 

Fei got out of the tub, finally. He grabbed his robe and used it to hastily wipe his body. “Yet, you play with my emotions. Is that right? You kissed me in front of your father. You let me kiss you whenever I want. And yet you give me nothing.” He put on the yukata Oriya had laid out for himself. 

“And what will you give to me?” Oriya shook his head. “I don’t know what … No, I know. It’s still wrong.” 

Fei frowned, obviously confused. “You’re too drunk to make sense,” he said. He leaned towards Oriya again, but Oriya pulled away. “Fine. I’ll ask again when you are sober.” Fei shook his head, smiling a little. “This round goes to you, but the match is far from over.”

Oriya smiled as Fei left the room. What match? He closed his eyes again.


	25. Chapter 25

Feilong knocked once and then opened the door. “You asked for me?” 

Oriya glared at him. 

He smirked. He’d seen Oriya practice with his sword in the garden minutes ago; he knew that, even though he had been summoned, he was not supposed to respond immediately. He knew he should have given Oriya time to get showered and changed. But he liked seeing Oriya with his hair still damp and wearing nothing but a flimsy yukata that clung to his sweaty skin. 

“Sit down,” Oriya told him in the end. “I have a job for you.” He threw him a folder.

Feilong caught it in the air, and then sat down and slowly opened it. “Not another of these,” he said after skimming through the papers inside. 

Oriya sat down, picked up a towel and started pressing it against his hair. “I can’t give you anything more demanding.”

“Why not? I can handle more complicated jobs, you know that.” 

“Yes, but more complicated jobs would entail larger expenses, which I’d then have to either deduce from your pay, or add to your debt. This way, you get everything.”

“Maybe, but higher-risk jobs would mean higher pay. Even with you deducing my expenses, I’d probably repay you faster.”

“Probably.”

Feilong smiled. “Unless, you want me to stay here longer.” He put down the papers and moved towards Oriya. “Because you want me.” Strands of hair had fallen on Oriya’s shoulders and chest; slowly growing patches of damp fabric clung on Oriya’s breast. By the time he was in front of Oriya, he could see his hardened nipples. “You want me here.”

Oriya smiled. The next second Feilong felt a sharp pain on his palm. He looked down, and saw a thin cut, barely bleeding. “Enough, Fei,” Oriya told him.

“Enough of what?” The cut stung. 

“Enough of your behaviour.” He looked serious. “I shouldn’t have been so … indulgent of your attitude, but I will not tolerate it further.”

“And you’ll do what?” He leaned forward and was stopped by the edge of a dagger resting against his neck. He hadn’t even seen Oriya move. 

“What do you think I’ll do, Fei?” He still looked serious, but also determined. Oriya pulled the blade slightly away. There was a thin red line along its edge. The cut started stinging a second later. 

Feilong pressed his hand against his neck. It didn’t feel like a wound, the traces of blood on the inside of his palm faint, and when he looked down again, he saw the reflection of the cut on the blade, a cut so thin as if done by paper. 

“Go back to work, Fei.” 

He pulled back slowly. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “What’s wrong with…”

“Fei,” Oriya said sharply, the dagger suddenly stuck on the floor next to his hand. “Enough.”

But the thing was that Oriya’s nipples looked raised and pointed and touchable, Oriya’s lips red and full, and his hair so soft and heavy. When he took over Baishe again, he’d have him kidnapped and ….

“Fei.” Oriya shouted this time. “Enough, I said.” 

“Is it because you want to hear those three words?” he blurted out, smirking. “Do you want me to say ‘I love you’ before y…”

Oriya slapped him. It was strange; he’d never realised before why people used a phrase such as ‘the blood drained from his face’ for the living until that moment. But it really was as if Oriya’s face paled gradually, slowly, until it became a mask. “Out,” Oriya said quietly, lips barely moving.

Feilong didn’t even nod. He moved away and out of the room as quickly as possible. He’d seen that kind of face before. It was the face of someone about to kill. 

Moments later he realised he’d forgotten the folder. He went back, stopped in front of the closed door, and didn’t dare open it. For a second, he’d thought he’d heard Oriya crying, but it was just for a second, and then everything was quiet again.


	26. Chapter 26

The knock on his door was hesitant. “Young Master?” the voice equally shy. “May I …”

“Come in, Mari.” Mari opened the door quietly. Oriya frowned when he saw her. She looked ill, for lack of a better word. “What’s wrong?”

She stayed by the door, looking down. The folder that Fei had forgotten was still there, the papers scattered all over the floor. 

“Mari,” he said, making her look away from the documents. Knowing such things was the kind of knowledge that Muraki always deemed dangerous to him. “Mari, come here, please.”

She wiped her eyes and moved towards him slowly. “I have a question,” she said after a long silence spent smoothing her kimono. 

“Yes?”

“Does the Young Master think people change when they come here?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked up. She looked like she wanted to say a lot of things, like her eyes were sad and haunted and miserable. “Fei,” was the only thing she said instead. 

“You think he’s changed?”

She nodded. 

Oriya smiled. He thought the opposite; that Fei had grown so comfortable in his House, he was finally showing them their true self. “Come here,” he told her, and she obeyed. When she stopped, still facing him, but so close that he could touch her, he smiled again. “Do you think it matters?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He thought of touching her hand to encourage her, but couldn’t bring himself to move. 

Mari stayed still and quiet for a while. Her fists only clenched and unclenched over her lap, and her chest moved with every breath she took. “He’s not the same anymore,” she said. She looked up at him, blushing with her whole face. “Last night, he called out your name when…” she mumbled and then looked down again. 

Was that all? “I’m not interested in Fei, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said bluntly, making her blush again. “I won’t compete with you.”

“Ididn’tmeanthat,” she said under her breath. “Idon’tthinkthatIcancompetewiththeYoungMaster,” she mumbled. 

“Then?”

“He used to be kind,” she said after another period of silence. “Last night, he hurt me.”

Oriya nodded. “Do you want me to take care of him?” he asked quietly. For a second, he meant it. 

“Nonono.” She sniffled. “No.” She took a deep breath and then looked at him again. “I want to know, is it because of the House that he’s changed? Is it because of me? Is there anything I can do to help him?”

Oriya frowned. He hadn’t thought that Mari had particularly strong spiritual powers, but the House clearly chose people who had some power. “Mari,” he said, still quietly, “you do realise that Fei will not be here forever, do you?”

She blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “You and I,” he said, “we’ll stay here. But Fei is only here until he finds out what happened to his family back in Hong Kong. When he does, he’ll go.”

“What?”

“Something happened to his family, and I’m helping him find out. If his relatives have survived, then Fei will go and join them. If not,” he sighed, “he’s the kind of person who will seek revenge. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“He’s not like that.” Her fists clenched again. “Not really.”

“Mari,” he sighed. 

She looked down again. “Maybe he’s worried, then. That’s why he hurt me. That makes sense.”

“You know it doesn’t.”

“But…” she sighed. “He really will go away?”

“Yes.”

Mari shuddered, and held herself tightly. Oriya raised her head, but she turned away. Her eyes were full of tears and then she started crying. When he realised that she wouldn’t stop, he moved closer and held her. She reminded him of Ukyou suddenly, and not quite, at the same time. She didn’t flinch at his embrace, but she didn’t mind crying in his presence either. 

“He never once said he loved me,” she whispered between sobs. 

So, she already knew that Fei could not love. He wished he could tell her that he understood how she felt. Instead, he pressed a kerchief into her hands and let her cry as long as she wanted.


	27. Chapter 27

Feilong stared at the garden, trying not to look beyond the blossoming chrysanthemums to the door of Oriya’s room. Even though Mari had left hours ago, he still couldn’t bring himself to seeing Oriya, or taking the folder back. 

“Ah, here you are.” Nishimura sounded a little scared of him. He glared, just for the pleasure of seeing Nishimura pale and take a step back. But it only lasted a few seconds. “If you could please follow me?”

He stood up and followed Nishimura to the entrance. “What now?”

Nishimura bowed slightly and showed him a small suitcase. Then he handed him his passport and an envelope. “Tickets and some cash for travel expenses.”

“What?”

“Also, this.” He gave a laptop case to Feilong. “Information.”

“About Tao?”

“I’m sorry,” Nishimura said, honestly sorry. “Your contacts in Hong Kong. Help for taking Baishe back,” he clarified.

So, he was being kicked out. “What of my debt?”

“You will repay it once you take back what’s yours. Won’t you?” Nishimura sounded threatening, for the first time in weeks. 

“Of course,” he snorted. “I don’t intend to forget something like that. But I thought…” 

Nishimura punched him suddenly. “This is for Mari.” 

The second time he tried to punch him, Feilong blocked him. “And that would have been for the Young Master?” he asked as he tightened his hold on Nishimura’s fist. He heard bones crack, and only then did he release Nishimura. “Tell your Young Master that I will not forget how he kicked me out. Nor how he treated me.” 

He looked outside. A taxi was waiting for him. It looked incongruous on the picture-perfect street, and at the same time so quintessentially Japanese. He might even miss this. He took everything and then smiled at Nishimura. “Tell your Young Master I’ll be back.” He grinned. Of course he would be.


	28. Chapter 28

Doctor Muraki was someone whose reputation preceded him. Feilong did not like being in the same room with him, even when he was supposed to be his contact in Hong Kong. Yet, he looked elegant and gracious and well-mannered, wearing clothes that spoke of old money and class, and smiling like there’d never been any blood in his hands. “Please, come in,” he told him as he opened the door and welcomed him inside a room furnished in the traditional Japanese manner. “Have you ever experienced a proper tea ceremony?” he asked as he showed him a pillow on the floor. 

“No.”

“A shame.” Doctor Muraki smiled gently. “It is most wonderful, especially when performed by a true Master. I have often been in the presence of such a person and I have always enjoyed it. Sit, please.” While Feilong sat the Doctor heated water in an electric kettle. “I did consider offering you a tea ceremony, but I will not do the ceremony justice with my skills.”

Was the Doctor being obnoxiously Japanese in his self-depreciation, or simply honest? He couldn’t tell, and so he said nothing.

The Doctor smiled again. “I’m afraid plain tea is the best I can offer you.” He warmed the teapot and the cups, and then added some tea leaves into the pot. “I hope you like jasmine.”

“I do.”

“Wonderful.” Another smile. It made Feilong feel like he was in the presence of a shark; all circling and waiting and looking, and only a flash of teeth as warning. “I have to say, when Oriya called me and asked me to help you, I was surprised.” He sighed theatrically. “He says, I am as good as using a bazooka to kill a fly, and he does not want me involved in anything.” Another grin. “But, I like to be of help.”

Definitely a shark, if not something worse and even more primitively evil. “And you have decided to help me because you are so generous of spirit?”

“Because Oriya asked me.” The ‘idiot’ at the end was left unsaid, but definitely implied in the smirk and half-lidded gaze. He poured the tea into the cups, looking away from Feilong for a while. 

Oriya. He hadn’t expected to miss him as much as he had. It had been relaxing to be in the presence of beauty, and he still didn’t know what had pushed Oriya into throwing him out of his House. Was it something Mari had said? 

“You should drink your tea before it grows cold,” the Doctor said, almost laughing. 

“Thank you.” He took a sip. “Not bad.”

“Yes? Thank you.” The Doctor beamed at the half-hearted compliment. It was odd. For a second, his expression had softened, letting Feilong glimpse someone still young, and still innocent. Then, the shark was back, showing teeth. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“Just you and me? Take over Baishe?” This might be the infamous Muraki, but still… 

The Doctor practically purred. “It’s been a while for me. I’m looking forward to having some fun, and I don’t want to share my prey.”

“I see.”

“I’m willing to leave you to take care of your second.” The Doctor grinned again. “But first.” He took out a small remote from his pocket. “Do you like the view?” 

The windows overlooked a part of the harbour area with storage containers and ships and nothing greatly spectacular. “Not really.”

He pressed a button. “Now?”

They were too far away to hear the explosion, but he could see the sudden outburst of flames and then the smoke. Massive amounts of smoke. 

“This shipment was to be delivered today.” The Doctor didn’t even look back. “Bad luck, don’t you think?”

He smiled. “That could have been my shipment, my deal, my money. You realise that?”

“Yes, but… This was only my calling card. Drink your tea.”

Feilong took another sip. “So, am I supposed to leave everything to you?”

“Only if you want.” His smile said that he wouldn’t mind, that he would in fact welcome doing everything himself. “But, Oriya said you’re stubborn, and that you’d like to do things your way.” His smile turned greedy, almost lecherous, almost orgasmic. “What of this? You deal with individual assassinations and leave the mass murders to me?” He laughed. “I’ve always wanted to say something like that.”

The Doctor’s reputation of a man driven by obsession didn’t begin to come close to the true madness that drove him. Feilong didn’t care that much. As long as he got Baishe back, he would deal with the Devil himself. And in the end, they’d see who’d stay standing, if it came to that.


	29. Chapter 29

Feilong looked at the sea. Soon, soon, soon, the wind whispered to him. Soon. He threw down his cigarette and put it out. Soon. 

Wu finally appeared from behind the corner. He was not alone, but Feilong did not recognise the young man who was with him. Probably a new recruit. He moved away from the wall and stood in their path. 

“What the fuck?” the young man snarled. “Move it.”

Feilong took out his gun. He pointed at the young man. “Really?”

Wu paled, placed a hand on the young man’s chest and then pushed him back. “Fei-sama,” he said. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Really?”

Wu nodded and made to bow. Feilong didn’t wait for him to draw his gun. He shot him immediately. Wu collapsed, and the young man fell on his ass behind Wu. He seemed in shock, unable to move away from the blood spreading beneath Wu, unable to look away from Feilong. 

“I’m back,” Feilong said. “Tell them that.”

“But I…”

He glared at the young idiot. A few seconds later Feilong realised an acrid, unpleasant smell coming from the young man, and that his trousers were getting darker and darker starting from the area of his crotch. Feilong smirked and left him there. Perhaps the young man would have enough sense to leave the scene, but, one way or another, Li would get his message. 

&*&*

His murder did not even make it to the news that night. Instead, there was a lengthy report on the brutal massacre of five gang members in a private gambling club in the Kwon Tong area. 

“Apparently, the murderer took trophies afterwards,” the Doctor said over the newscaster’s voice as he placed one jar after the other on the table. In one, a middle finger floated serenely upwards. In another a single eye stared at Feilong. 

“The five senses?”

“How clever,” the Doctor grinned as he put a jar with an ear up. “Indeed.”

Feilong didn’t like how the ear seemed torn, not cut. He didn’t like how the smell made his stomach roll more than the sight of the actual ‘trophies’. “Did you really have to do that?”

The Doctor leaned across the table, smiling. He smelled of expensive cologne and subtle perfume. “I don’t really have to do anything, my dear.” He put the fourth jar in front of Feilong. The tongue too seemed removed by hand and not by any instrument, surgical or not. He moved behind the jar, shook it, and the tongue moved too, slowly, languidly. “But, I will tell no lies,” the Doctor whispered in a seductive tone, his face distorted behind the liquid and the glass. He stood up. “I did it because I felt like it.”

These had not been his men; these had been traitors. “Is there anyone who hasn’t betrayed me?”

“Of course,” the Doctor said lightly, putting the last jar on the table. “I won’t kill indiscriminately. What? You think I’m some kind of savage?” He turned a chair around and sat down, his arms crossed and resting at the top of the back. He still looked elegant, even when he was sitting casually, even when his ‘trophies’ were lined up between them. 

“I wouldn’t call this ‘civilized’,” he said, gesturing slightly at the jars. 

The Doctor smirked. “Your definition of civilization is not that different from mine. You just don’t feel any attachment for your kills. I…” He half-closed his eyes, and let his head drop on his arms. He sighed happily, almost erotically. “I need them. You might even say I love them.” He stared at Feilong. “I hope you like pizza.” He moved the jar with the tongue again.

In his haste to reach the bathroom, he upturned the chair in which he had been sitting. 

&*&*

Looking at Hong Kong’s skyline from below was very different from looking from above. There was a time that he hadn’t minded looking up; to his father, to his brother, to the old men who surrounded them. But he would never go back to that. Feilong pushed his sunglasses back, wrapped the shawl tighter around his shoulders and walked into the hotel. 

He caught a glimpse of himself as he walked, and he smiled at the passing bellboy. Oriya had been right; he made a Very Attractive Woman, especially when he was wearing a cheongsam. He had more time to study himself in the elevator. Yes, he’d definitely fuck him if he were a woman. 

The elevator stopped at the thirtieth floor and he got out. Suite 3021. He didn’t even have to look at the small card inside his purse to make sure he had the right number. The Madame had repeated it several times as she was begging for her life and making the appointment for Fei. Not that it had saved her; if she betrayed the confidence of her customers at the first threat, how could he trust her to keep her mouth shut while he disposed of Li’s investor? 

He knocked on the door twice, as arranged, and it opened immediately. He reminded Feilong of some of Oriya’s customers: similar age, similar clothes, similar leer and drooling the moment he saw him. Feilong smiled at him slowly, the way Oriya’s girls did, the way Oriya himself did. The old pig’s breath quickened. For a second, he wondered if the old man would have a heart attack if Feilong did more than smile, and then decided that he didn’t care so much about this. He closed the door behind him and, the moment the pig turned, he shot him on the back of his head. 

Then, he had a drink. From his own flask. While looking at the skyline, at the rising buildings, the darkening sky, the lights that flickered alive. The thirtieth floor of a hotel was not high enough for him, but he would go home soon.

&*&*

He looked around first for more trophies, but found none. The Doctor’s attack of a debt-collecting gang’s headquarters was again first thing on the news, whereas his assassination of well-known industrialist Tiang was fourth or fifth, depending on the channel. Perhaps the Doctor was not in yet. 

“I’m here,” the Doctor shouted from the bathroom. A second later he was out, wearing nothing but a robe, looking refreshed and still towelling his hair. “Nice dress,” he said after studying Feilong.

“Yes?” He grinned. “Oriya taught me to use Everything I have.” He suddenly took out his gun from the holster and pointed it at the Doctor. “But don’t let this give you any ideas.”

The Doctor snorted. He ignored the gun, turned around and headed into his bedroom. “If I was into long-haired bishies, I’d have slept with Oriya ages ago,” he said, laughing. “Your virtue is safe with me.” He turned around again. “Unless you’re into bespectacled geniuses.” He winked at Feilong and then went straight into his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Feilong put the gun back in its holster, and followed the Doctor. He knocked on the door and then opened it. 

The Doctor smirked. “You are into bespectacled geniuses,” he said. 

“I’m into all sorts of things,” he answered back. “But not you.” 

“You just hurt my feelings.” Feilong snorted. The Doctor smiled as if he’d heard that before. “So, what can I do for you?” 

“I was thinking.” The Doctor nodded and he continued. “Since we have established a modus operandi and it’s obvious that we don’t really need to exchange information,” since the gods only knew how the Doctor found the things he did, and he’d rather not ask, “I was thinking of moving out of here.”

The Doctor snorted. “You wish. No. If anything happened to you, Oriya would hold me responsible and then do …”

“Something nasty?” He couldn’t quite picture that.

“Oh, no.” The Doctor laughed. “He’d do something even worse.” He smiled, tilting his head to his right and looking down for a second. “Much worse,” he said. He looked back up at Feilong. “Oriya said I have to keep an eye on you, and that’s what I’ll do.”

Feilong snorted. So, Oriya’s word was law? He doubted anyone could make the Doctor do anything. No, the Doctor had to have another reason for keeping him there, a reason of his own. “Are you generally so forthcoming?” He smiled. “Also, do you generally go about advertising your trophies?”

The Doctor laughed. “Of course not.” He leaned forward, still laughing. “You’re special, Liu Feilong.” He suddenly stopped laughing. “You really are special,” he said in a low, husky voice. “And I’d really like to know why.”

The intensity of the Doctor’s gaze scared him. He smirked. “It’s because I’m so gorgeous.”

“Perhaps.” The Doctor looked serious, as if that was a reason, and not the joke it was meant to be. “Anyway,” he said, smiling again. “Because I like you so much, I’ve decided to give you a master class.”

“Erm,” he said and then couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially since the Doctor was standing up and gesturing to follow him. “Maybe later?” he managed. 

“Nonsense.” The Doctor grinned. 

“You’ve just had a shower.”

“So?” The Doctor glanced at him as if he were an idiot. “Show up in front of your victim drenched in blood and he or she will panic so much, it won’t be fun anymore. Show up like this,” he grinned, “and they feel hope.” He closed his eyes, and made a soft noise that should have belonged to the bedroom. “Hope is so wonderful to crush.”

They walked down a well-lit staircase. He hadn’t realised there was a basement in the house. “Why are you here? Really?”

The Doctor smiled beautifully when he wanted. “Oriya promised me blood,” he whispered as he opened the door. 

Then, why do you keep me here, showing me these things? He wanted to ask, studying the long-haired beauty, half-naked and chained against the wall. She looked unconscious. 

“She’s quite the beauty, isn’t she?” The Doctor grinned. “I’ll make sure she stays that way.”

“Who is she?” 

“I’m surprised you don’t know. She’s Li’s latest mistress.” He leaned well inside Feilong’s personal space, and whispered in his ear. “She’s pregnant. But, she doesn’t know it yet.” Feilong didn’t have to see the Doctor to know he was smiling. “I’m thinking of sending the foetus back to him. What do you think?”

That he was glad he didn’t have any food yet? Just the idea made him sick. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes upwards. “The bathroom is there. Go throw up, and I’ll wake her up when you’re ready. Believe me, you don’t want to miss this.”

He wished, but he had no choice. When had the Doctor locked the door? He hurried to the bathroom.


	30. Chapter 30

Akihito studied Asami. He didn’t like the way Asami had first paled, and then froze, and how finally his mouth turned into a thin, tense line. Asami was still staring at his phone and, well, he wouldn’t show him whatever the message was, would he? Akihito jumped up, ran towards Asami and grabbed the phone from his hands. 

“You must really be in shock not to stop me,” he laughed, moving away from Asami just in case, and then finally looked. “Shit.” He could recognize blood, even when it was artistically spattered against glass. There was another picture next with Hong Kong’s skyline. He recognized this as well; the view from Feilong’s bedroom. ‘Mine’, the accompanying message said. And then, ‘You’re next.’ He looked at Asami. “What’s this?”

“What do you think?” Asami was still tense. 

Akihito put the phone down. “You’re going to…” what? Go to war? Strike before they do? Wait? He went back to Asami and guided him towards the sofa. “Why can’t he leave you alone?” he whispered as he sat next to him.

Asami closed his eyes and let Akihito settle behind him and massage his shoulders. Even after everything, he still felt that Asami only let him take control grudgingly, but the fact that he sometimes surrendered to his touch was enough. “It’s my fault,” Asami said just as quietly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I…” Asami sighed, leaned forward and let Akihito rub soothing circles across his back. “I wanted to teach him a lesson. So, I had him kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder.” He glanced back. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Akihito stopped touching Asami. “That’s all?” He hit Asami at the back of his neck and then moved away, scared of Asami’s retaliation. 

Asami just looked at him. A couple of seconds later he snorted. “I deserved that.”

“Of course you did.” Even though he wanted to, he didn’t dare call him an idiot, nor did he hit him again. “What were you thinking?”

“That I’d teach him a lesson.” Asami stared at him, waiting for him to understand. His eyes grew darker with every passing moment and then, suddenly, Asami reached for him and grabbed his wrist. Akihito let himself be pulled into Asami’s tight embrace, closed his eyes and let Asami’s voice lull him to a place where there were no vengeful Triad leaders and no impeding wars, even as the words were nothing but painful and misguided. “I wanted him to understand what you went through, and how he shouldn’t mess with me again.”

Akihito sighed. “And you’d thought that would work?”

Asami ruffled his hair. “Yes.” He sighed. “I went ahead and arranged everything. I even made sure the highest bidder would be the only person in Japan who would never hurt Fei.”

Fei? He smiled. One day, he’d find out Asami’s view of what had happened between the two of them. 

“It’s true,” Asami said, probably mistaking the reason behind his smile. “My friend, Tamura, hates him, the man who got Fei.”

“And that’s how you knew he wouldn’t hurt Feilong? Because your friend hates him?” He smiled again. 

“Tamura is like me. Doesn’t come from a privileged background, had to fight for everything in his life.” Asami’s hold tightened, and Akihito felt a brush of lips against his forehead. He held Asami back. “Unlike me, he holds nothing sacred. For these reasons, more than their business rivalry, Mibu’s existence pisses him off.”

Akihito made an inquiring noise. 

“Mibu comes from an old family.”

“We all come from old families,” Akihito murmured. 

“We can’t all trace our family tree several generations back. So I made sure both Tamura and Mibu would be there.”

“How could you be so sure Mibu would buy Feilong?”

“Someone tries to steal a scoop from you. Do you let him?”

“Hell, no.” He grinned. “Ah.” 

Asami ruffled his hair again. “Exactly.” 

Akihito shook his head. “Still…. What a stupid idea. And what about Baishe? Why aren’t you afraid of them coming after you?”

“I made sure that Baishe would be in friendly hands. Friendly to me.”

Akihito frowned. “You’re…” crazy, he wanted to say but didn’t finish. “And Tao?”

“Tao is safe. I had him sent to an orphanage. No one in Hong Kong knows where he is. No one can use him against Fei.” Asami kissed him briefly on the lips. “I have to go. Do you want me to drop you anywhere?”

“No.” He nuzzled Asami before he moved away. “I’m feeling lazy today. Do you want something in particular for dinner?”

“You?” This kiss was deeper. 

“Apart from me,” Akihito laughed.

“No, I don’t want anything but you.” Asami took hold of Akihito’s hand and squeezed it. “See you later.” 

Akihito smiled and nodded. He lay down in the sofa, waiting until Asami had left. Then he went through Asami’s things and his computer. There were two Mibus in Asami’s phone book, and he decided to try the number in Kyoto first. 

“Kokakurou here. How can I help you?” The voice was that of a man, soft, pleasant, without a hint of accent.

“Can I talk to Mibu Oriya please?”

“I’m afraid he’s not available right now. Can I take a message?” The tone had changed. Not irritated, but curious, perhaps even dismissive. 

“It’s very important. When can I call back?” There was a long silence. “Are you still there?” Akihito said, worried. “I really need to talk to him.” How did you tell someone that you suspected their boss was in the slave trade business, and that you wanted to talk about one of their ‘acquisitions’? 

“Excuse me, may I ask who gave you this number?” The man sounded annoyed more than anything else.

Ah, of course. “Asami. Asami Ryouichi. He owns several…”

“I know who Asami is.” Bored, perhaps resigned. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m… an associate.”

“So, you’re calling on Asami’s behalf?” The man snorted. “Tell Asami to mind his own business. Kyoto still has wolves and they don’t like others interfering, or trying to move into their territory.”

Akihito swallowed. “Really? I thought wolves were extinct in Japan. Oh, you meant it metaphorically?”

“Gods.”

“Please, don’t hang up,” Akihito said quickly. “I really need to speak to your boss. Can you take a message? Please? Tell him that Takaba called for…” 

“Takaba? As in Asami’s Takaba?”

He laughed. “Erm… well, yes.” He didn’t know people called him that. “Anyway, it’s about Feilong. Well, he may not know him as Feilong, but he’s very distinctive. Tall, you could even call him pretty, but he’s usually looking like he ate something sour or bitter and…”

The man laughed. “I know who Feilong is. But you can’t leave these sorts of messages to people. I can’t leave for the next … oh, hell. Can you come over today? Can you catch the 11.50, or the 12.00?”

He checked his watch. “Yes.”

“See you later, then.” He hung up.

Akihito grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the flat. He had no time to lose.


	31. Chapter 31

Asami’s Takaba was a pretty, young man that looked extremely out of place. Out of place in Kokakurou, out of place in Asami’s life. He looked too vibrant to be involved with any of them, and at the same time too knowledgeable to be staying with anyone like them willingly. He couldn’t understand, but then again, attraction was the only thing he’d always refused to understand. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant journey?” 

Takaba stopped looking around him, and studied him instead. “I talked to you on the phone,” he said. 

“You did.”

“I knew it,” Takaba grinned. “That guy who picked me up? He spoke in a Kansai accent and he sounded more…” Takaba grinned again. “Sorry, you’re probably not interested.” He had a really beautiful smile. “When can I talk to your boss?”

“Follow me.”

Takaba did, immediately, and without even checking where he was being taken. He would have felt sorry, if Takaba’s vulnerability hadn’t already made him feel protective towards him. So, he just led him to his room, made him sit down and asked him if he had lunch. 

Takaba snorted. “I didn’t come here for the food.”

“Pity. My cooks are excellent.”

“I need to see Mibu Oriya,” Takaba continued. “It’s about Feilong.”

Oriya sighed. “I’ll pass on your message to Mibu. What about Feilong?”


	32. Chapter 32

When the Doctor had first told him that he was Oriya’s best friend, Feilong had trouble believing it. Seeing them together, though, made him wonder why they were just best friends. Everyone could see they were perfect for each other, looking more comfortable than an old married couple, and more playful than a pair of young lovers. Even their physical appearance made them look perfect for each other: the one was dark where the other was white; in hair, in eyes, in clothes. He didn’t like it at all. He pushed Tao forward once Oriya had finished welcoming the Doctor. “This is Tao. My family.”

Tao bowed deeply.

Oriya bowed back, briefly, slightly. “I bet this is your first time in a traditional Japanese house. Why don’t you go explore it, Tao?”

Tao looked at Feilong. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” He ruffled Tao’s hair for a second and then pushed him towards the garden. Then he glared at the Doctor, not liking the way his eyes followed Tao. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he mouthed as he closed the door, perhaps a little more forcefully than usual. 

“Moi?” The Doctor laughed. Oriya hit him. “Ouch. What did you do that for, Oriya?” 

Oriya snorted. 

“I promise not to do anything in your House this time. Okay?”

Oriya glared at the Doctor again. Then he turned towards Feilong. “I’m glad you were reunited with your family.”

“So am I.” 

“No one would hurt a child,” the Doctor said in a strange, almost oily tone. His comment made Oriya grimace, and keep his eyes away from the Doctor. 

“When did you find out Tao was in that orphanage?” Feilong asked, choosing to ignore the way the Doctor and Oriya seemed to communicate through their non-communication. 

Oriya shrugged slightly. “More or less when you did.”

“But you didn’t bother telling me.”

“I called Muraki and he said…” He did look at the Doctor then, smiling. “You reassured me that all was under control.”

“And so it was,” the Doctor said. “Wouldn’t you say so?” he asked Feilong. 

“But what if it wasn’t? What if that day made the difference between getting Tao back alive or…”

The Doctor smirked. “You trust me so little, even after everything I showed you? Does that mean that you also trust Oriya so little, after all he did for you, you un…”

“No.” Feilong didn’t let him finish. “If I didn’t trust him, I wouldn’t be here.”

Oriya frowned. “What…?”

“I meant,” Feilong said, not letting him finish either. “I’m here because I’m going to go after Asami next, but Tao is my family. My most precious person. When I’m in Tokyo, and, if anything happens to me,” Feilong took a deep breath as he handed Oriya an envelope, “I want you to take care of him. I can’t trust anyone else but you.” 

Oriya paled. 

“Please?”

“Get out,” Oriya whispered, looking even paler.

“What?” 

The Doctor grabbed his arm and pulled him out of Oriya’s room. “You heard the man,” he murmured. “Come on,” he said again when he realised that Feilong resisted him. 

“But…”

“Now,” the Doctor insisted, dragging him out. The second before the Doctor closed the door, he saw Oriya collapse on the floor. “You idiot,” the Doctor muttered, throwing him down.

“What?” He tried to get up, but the Doctor did something and he couldn’t move. “What the…” he suddenly lost his voice as well. He could only watch as the Doctor knelt next to him, and try not to feel any more panic. 

“You idiot,” the Doctor said. “You can’t tell such things to Oriya.” He looked back towards the room. “What’s going on between him,” he turned again towards Feilong, “and you? He’s never asked me to do anything for anyone before, and you trust him with your family, just like I did.”

Feilong felt himself able to move again. He kicked the Doctor and then rushed back into Oriya’s room. “Oriya?”

Oriya was sitting formally on the floor, tearing the envelope, and the cheque it contained, in tiny pieces. “Get out.”

“Do I owe you more?” he asked as he sat behind Oriya.

“I don’t know. I didn’t check.” 

Oriya didn’t turn to look at him and that was more irritating than anything else. Feilong grabbed his shoulders and pushed him on the floor, turning him towards him at the same time. Oriya looked furious.

“You’re not fighting him,” the Doctor said a couple of seconds later. Feilong glanced back. The Doctor seemed curious. “And you don’t try to hurt him,” he said next. “What is going on?” He sounded more like an affronted school mistress than anything else. 

He smirked and immediately felt two sharp rays of pain slicing his arms. He released Oriya and, “Fuck,” he muttered. He should have remembered to restrain Oriya’s hands. As he was still rubbing his arms, Oriya slid away from him and then hit him on the back of the head with his elbow. Sharp elbow. 

The Doctor snorted. “I take it back.”

He looked up and glimpsed Oriya grinning at the Doctor. “Fuck,” he said again and raised his arm in time to protect his head from another hit. “You two are lovers, aren’t you? Making fun of me.” The Doctor did something again and he lost all movement in his body. “How do you do that?” he asked, surprised that his voice came out. “Basta….” Damn it, he was mute again. How? 

Oriya looked sad for a second. “Next time, please visit me together with Ukyou,” he said, ignoring Feilong completely. 

“Will do.” The Doctor pointed at Feilong. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“I guess it would be too much to ask to take him back where he came from?” 

“You mean Hong Kong?”

If he weren’t already frozen, he would have frozen at that. The Doctor was the worst kind of predator; the kind that played with his victims for hours before finishing them off, not for profit, not for fear, but for fun. His smile promised torture. 

“Of course,” Oriya said, and then hit the Doctor on the head. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Never, my dearest Oriya.” He even bowed a little. Then he sat down. “Why? I thought....”

Oriya’s narrowed eyes and his glare could make even the Doctor shut up. Then he sighed. “Just take him back. Him and his family.” He raised his arm and made a vague gesture. “I can’t deal with him anymore.” He turned towards Feilong. “I’ll send you an invoice.” 

The Doctor snorted again. Then he dragged Feilong out, making him feel like a kitten – a most pathetic, pitiful kitten. He hated himself for thinking that. The Doctor finally let him go when they were out of Oriya’s room. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, realizing he could move again. He didn’t, though. 

“That was my line,” the Doctor grinned. Then he knelt next to him again. “You stay there,” he said.

“Like hell.” Feilong struck him with his elbow and immediately after pushed him over the corridor and into the garden. “You stay there, you bastard,” he said as he went back into Oriya’s room. 

Oriya was still sitting down, but not as formally as before. His head was lowered and his hair was spilling everywhere around him. Feilong closed the door with some trepidation; Oriya reminded him of a character in a horror story, that woman in the Black Hair story – what was her name? Or maybe Sadako, from Ring. “We need to talk,” he said, and his voice came out softer than he wanted.

“Not really.” Oriya’s answer was in an equally soft tone. 

Feilong sat behind him. “Look, I’ll just go deal with Asami and then I’ll be back. And Tao is a very quiet child; you won’t even notice him. Just…”

Oriya’s elbow connected with his stomach in an abrupt motion. He barely managed to avoid the fist aiming for his face, and then he fell on the floor, curled on his side, and hoped that this display of vulnerability would stop Oriya from hitting him again. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Oriya turned to face him, but his face was obscured by his hair. Even his voice was low and menacing. Definitely horror story material. “Is that all you think about? Taking revenge on Asami? For how long will you chase ghosts?” There was an emphasis on ‘you’ that Feilong didn’t like. “And I’m supposed to wait?”

He sat up slowly. “It’s just until I…”

“Until you what? Kill Asami? Kill Takaba? Haven’t you done enough already?” Feilong pulled back, afraid of another blow, but Oriya turned away from him again. 

“Takaba was a mistake,” Feilong said after a while. “I shouldn’t have gotten him involved. I won’t do the same mistake twice.” No, this time, he would first kill Asami and then decide what to do with Takaba. The boy was talented; he wouldn’t mind keeping him as his personal sex slave when everything was over. 

“I’d rather you didn’t do this at all,” Oriya said quietly. 

“But, I have to. How can I let him be after what he did to me?”

“What did he do to you?” He sounded angry. “Let you live? He could have sold you to anyone. Instead, he made sure you came here, where you undermined my authority, harassed me and my staff and treated the whole situation like a joke. And I let you. Anyone else would have killed you weeks ago.”

Feilong snorted. “So what? I should be…”

“You should be looking forward, not back.” 

“That’s what I am doing.” He tugged at the edge of Oriya’s haori. “With him out of the way, I…”

“Killing him won’t change anything.” Oriya muttered something about Muraki that Feilong didn’t catch. 

“I disagree.”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Oriya said suddenly. “You come here and you don’t even ask about Mari. She gave everything to you and is that how you treat her?”

“If it’s about Mari…”

“It’s not.” Oriya cut him off again. “It’s about you coming here, touching me as if you have a right to do that, and yet, all you talk about is revenge and death and…” He sighed and turned towards him again. Feilong could see glimpses of his face, eyes shining gold and lips deep red. “If you were honest, you’d acknowledge that without Asami we would never have met. That your duty is not towards the ghosts of your past, but towards the people that look up to you for support and strength and the people that think they love you. You should be living your life for your Group, and Tao, and Mari and… not for death.” He stood up suddenly. “Fuck it; no one ever listens to me anyway. Muraki, take him away from here.”

Feilong looked back. Damn it, why couldn’t he ever hear when that man came in? And why didn’t he look amused? He would be, if he were in the Doctor’s place, listening to that optimistic praise of life. As if they weren’t all killers, with nothing but their pride. The Doctor, instead, looked sad. 

“You will never change, will you?” the Doctor whispered. 

“I’m too old to change.” Oriya too looked sad. 

“And I am who I am,” the Doctor said softly. Then he turned towards Feilong. “But, what’s your excuse? Oriya is right. You shouldn’t live for revenge.” He smirked. “Which sounds funny, coming from me, but it’s still true. Death is not part of your nature, is it?”

Feilong snorted. “I grew up with death.” He stood up carefully and then he bowed. “Please, take care of Tao for me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the Doctor murmured very close to him, and then …


	33. Chapter 33

He woke up with a dreadful headache. “Drink this,” Oriya told him. “Slowly.” The tea had just the right temperature, and it was neither strong and bitter, or watery. It was just right. Just perfect. 

He took a sip, tried to raise his hand to take the cup himself, and then opened his eyes slowly. “What the hell?”

Oriya smiled. “Muraki thinks this is a good idea.” He looked resigned, perhaps even a little embarrassed.

“He tied me up?”

“And that’s my bed, you know.” Oriya helped him to another sip.

“What?” He tried to sit up, but even that was impossible. 

“He thinks that the answer to our problem is sex. I told him we have no problems, or anything else between us, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He never does.” Oriya put the cup away. 

“So?” Feilong looked down. Apart from the haori thrown over him, he was completely naked. “So…”

“I’m sorry. But there’s no other way for me to release you,” Oriya said quietly. 

Feilong narrowed his eyes and was about to say that he would kill the Doctor too when this was over, but then Oriya kissed him. He closed his eyes and kissed Oriya back. The kiss was as sweet as he remembered, but only lasted a couple of seconds. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Oriya said, pulling back. 

“You intend to…” leave me here, he wanted to finish but Oriya put his hand over Feilong’s mouth and hushed him. 

“Not like this, I mean,” he said, leaving Feilong’s side. When he came back, he was holding that ridiculous fox mask in his hands, studying it. Its white hair trailed on the floor. He put it on, and it didn’t look ridiculous any more. The mask made Oriya look dangerous, or was it that the mask itself seemed disturbing when worn? “I bought you with this, so maybe it’s alright to release you with this,” he said.

The mask meant that there would be no more kisses. But for every missed kiss there were a thousand caresses, soft, fine white and black hair that cascaded and covered Feilong’s body protectively and arousingly. For every caress Feilong couldn’t make, there were a hundred of Oriya’s touches, sweet and gentle and insistent. And Oriya did pull back his mask in order to suck him, and that only made Oriya look even stranger and more otherworldly, half-animal, half-human. He was not scared, though; he was being seduced and devoured and made love, and if his lover was more spirit than human, then so be it. 

In fact, he was being so thoroughly seduced by Oriya, that he didn’t even protest when he realised that Oriya meant to take him. He only wished he could spread his legs further and let Oriya kiss his way inside him, and then, he regretted not being able to embrace him. He had never wanted to hold someone so badly as Oriya when he was thrusting slowly, but inexorably, inside him. If he could fuse their bodies in one, he would have done it. Part of him still objected, still claimed that he should be resisting, but taking the path of least resistance had never been sweeter or more pleasurable as when he was tied down, and forced to endure what? Kisses and touches and caresses and motions that made his body ache with longing, and pleasure erupt in straight paths from his nerve endings straight to his brain. Words refused passing his lips, only moans and maybe sighs. He even wanted Oriya to finish inside him, and in the midst of his second orgasm he was disappointed that Oriya didn’t. 

“You won’t even take that stupid mask off,” he said when Oriya was sitting next to him, half-studying him, half-cleaning him. He raised his hand and pushed it back. Tendrils of black crossed Oriya’s face, like a tattoo. He pushed the damp hair back, feeling cool skin beneath his fingers. 

Oriya smiled at him. “Now you’re free.”

Feilong had the impression that he wasn’t just referring to Muraki’s binding, or the debt he owed. Was Oriya hoping that a good fuck had freed him from his need to get revenge? He smiled back and pulled Oriya to him. Perhaps Oriya was right to hope that; he didn’t feel like moving from the bed, much less like going to Tokyo. 

Outside the sky started to change colour.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Manushan asked 'where's the end'....

For the next three days Oriya played the gracious host to Tao and Feilong. He plied them with food, arranged for them to have tea at temples, sent them off to explore Kyoto, and then welcomed them back with warm baths and more food. While they were away he kept himself busy with work: exercising, practicing music, overseeing menus, making appointments for his girls, updating the daybooks. 

For the next three nights Oriya did not work but let Feilong use him as he willed. It wasn’t such a hardship: Feilong was a beautiful man who wanted him. But it was nothing but sex: lustful, often rough, and sometimes disgusting. More often than not he waited for Feilong to finish, roll over and fall asleep. 

For the next three mornings Mari looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as she ran across him during her chores. On the fourth morning, she finally spoke. 

“I thought you didn’t want him.”

“I don’t.”

“Then?”

He shrugged. How to explain that he’d rather have Feilong distracted with sex than going after Asami? 

“IknowIcan’tcompetewiththeYoungMaster,” she said, suddenly sliding down, “but it hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” He sank down next to her and hugged her, feeling nothing but pity. 

“Does he love you?” she asked in a faint voice, made quitter still by being muffled against his chest.

“No,” Oriya snorted. “He only loves himself.”

Slowly, she hugged him back. He felt her relax in his arms, and held her until she pulled away. “Thank you,” she said seriously, bowing deeply, the movement hiding her embarrassment for a moment. 

“Don’t mention it.” He watched her turn away. “Mari?” he called after a moment. 

“Yes?”

“Let’s go out for a drink this week.”

Mari’s cheeks reddened further. 

“We have something to commiserate, don’t you think?”

Mari nodded, slowly smiling. “Yes, let’s.”

Oriya smiled back. 

The door opened behind him. “So, I’m something to commiserate about?” Feilong asked with a teasing grin. 

“Yes.”

“So cold, Oriya.”

Oriya snorted. 

Feilong sat down next to him. “I’m going back home tomorrow. You’re right. I should focus on rebuilding Baishe. My revenge on Asami can wait.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He meant it. 

“I will miss this place,” Feilong said softly. “Especially your garden. It is always so peaceful.”

For a second Oriya was tempted to tell him that he could come back anytime. He kept his mouth shut and stared at the veins on the polished wooden floor. 

Feilong hugged him and then pulled him up. “So, can you spend all day with me today? It’s my last day here, after all.”

“Wouldn’t you rather go visit a museum? Or maybe…”

Feilong kissed him. Plundered his mouth, though, was a more correct way of putting it. “I’d rather have you.”

Oriya let himself be led back into his room. He could put up with sex for one more day and one more night. And then he’d wash himself as clean as he could, and go stay at a temple for a week to clean his mind. He had to start breaking his need for attachments at some point, and, as Feilong pushed him down, kissing his neck, Oriya decided that he had to start soon. He was tired of suffering.


End file.
